Haiku 4

Sit in April rain;

now watch as it turns to snow;

laugh that this is spring.

 

April 9, 2016

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Something Worth Fighting For

Do you

have something

worth fighting for?

 

Under the depths

of a powerful river

do you think,

“I wish I could tell you,

‘I love you,'”

then yes–

you have someone worth fighting for.

 

In the next snowpocalypse

do you go drifting off to your bed at noon,

arms full of magazines,

gin on ice

and a mad idea of hope–

you,

yes, you,

have something worth fighting for.

 

Last week,

the last one in class,

sweat dripping down your neck

and pair of unfortunate yoga pants,

determined to be in the now–

oh, you dear–

you have something worth fighting for.

 

The way things are these days, we all do.

 

All terminology aside, cutting

the “fight” off “ing”

allowing Being

to simply be

the one thing worth illuminating:

there is no fighting to be done.

 

I am not the only one.

 

We are all, deep in our bones,

careful risk takers,

taking empathy by the hand,

showing them a good time,

and then, with a faint smile,

letting them go.

Yesterday I watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on a whim (and it was totally worth it, naturally).  The final scene really got to me.  Dumbledoor tells Harry that he has one thing that Voldemort does not have: “something worth fighting for.”  Sadly, I couldn’t find any good clips of this part on good ol’ YouTube, but here is one nostalgia filled video, ending with the classic line, for any of you fellow HP lovers.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNhHqLYEMVU  

 

February 12, 2016

through my window

the intersection

of tree

and sky,

the lines 

they paint

across pale blue horizons 

while two black specks of bird chase each other.

***

Truth,

expanding over snow-dipped houses–

it will never be found beneath my pen.

***

the earth knows things my mind cannot see.

***

but I can still sit back,

exhale,

and soak in the view:

a single, conscious moment in the universe.

tumblr_nxewliCb0n1u489n5o1_1280.jpgFebruary 6, 2016

I Write on a Blanket of Snow

Pen

finds its way back

to the paper

back to my truth

in the hopes that

“mine”

can still be

“ours”

in times like this–

white capped mountains

filling with the sound

of my shadow,

a lost soul

radiance

spilling out into sunlight

even the mountain missed,

talking with my sister

I know that the tradition

will pass on

the human way,

of knowing

the snow will melt,

flow,

and fall again,

just like the edge of my pen,

longing for love.

January 27, 2015