"Her Extraordinary Hair" and Other Poems

Her Extraordinary Hair

but Mary, seated on the floor,

like a child at a party, paid no attention;
she was busy; she was deftly un-weaving

the long, carefully braided tresses
of her extraordinary hair. ~H.D.


Years of devotion unbraided her hair.
Untied unruly knots.
Made it manageable,
malleable.
Magnificent.

My hair ~ a rats nest.

My devotion ~ weak.

I call upon Mary Love to assist me ~
to un-tatter these torn tresses.

How can I ever wipe His feet clean
with this ragged lot?

And yet the tears fall.
Flood this Alice in Wonderland
[please feed me more]

He, underwater with me,
wears a grin.

I flinch.
Mary undoes another latticed layer
She moves me one step closer to Home.

---

Morning Meditation

foggy morning
and my heart bursts in joy
to view the visible smoke that rises
from the fire You build within

one more round of Hari Krishna
or Amazing Grace
is all that is needed
to set the whole world a flame

---

Morning Meditation 2

at dawn, content,
my little boat
set safely upon the sea
glows warm orange

---

Altar

chilled, she meditates in an old sleeping bag
wrapped in flannel; red and black

His lips mouth at her ear
enters her with sacred sounds
kisses at her heart

how He warms her in this small room
see the bag fall to the floor

no altar to offer
but her heart

and how pleased is He

---

Feed The World

an instant ago
God told me to feed the world
reveals the secret of loaves and fishes

says any Holy name will work

I ask what I have to offer
He replies ~

the same thing He feeds me

"Love"

---

untitled

do You know
that i would sit all day, eyes closed,
legs crossed/ half lotus
loving You?
[all night, too]

do You know
that I would beg You
to long more, for more love
for You?
[if i thought i could stand it]

do You know
that my heart has forgotten every song
but the one that sings
Your name?
[and Your name is Everything]

You sit lotus posed
eyes half slit
within the recesses of my heart
and i am crying out Your name.
[when will You awaken?]

---

his feet - a meditation

He rubs his toes against each other;
foot caresses foot.
Sometimes beginning to intertwine like hands about to pray -
a distant prayer, ad libbed,
unannounced.

Pale hands join chilled ivory flesh warm with scented lavender
smoothed again and again.
How dry they are -
bones, brittle,
and I touch as one who loves despite the form,
one who sees beyond the form.

I meet love face to face caged in a soft dying body -
rib racked and liver wrecked.

I smile and joke,
"Daddy, I'm glad I don't love you for your body."
He smiles, eyes aflame with more life than exist in most bodies.

Our love has nothing to do with form.
We've been doing this for centuries