Fear

 

It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.

She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.

And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.

But there is no other way.
The river can not go back.

Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.

The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,

but of becoming the ocean.

--Khalil Gibran

Witness

 

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.

--Denise Levertov

[Poem about Mt. Rainer to accompany my felt "painting" of Rainer from Reflection Lake]

For Grief

 

When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence

Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss has wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.

Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.

There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.

Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.

It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way

And will find the right time 
To pull and pull the rope of grief

Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.

Gradually, you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned

To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return

All the time. 

--John O'Donohue

[Photos of my father, David J. Gardner, who left this world in 1999.]

Give Me Laugh Lines

 

give me laugh lines and wrinkles
i want proof of the jokes we shared
engrave the lines into my face like
the roots of a tree that grow deeper
with each passing year
i want sunspots as souvenirs
for the beaches we laid on
i want to look like I was
never afraid to let the world
take me by the hand
and show me what it’s made of
i want to leave this place knowing
i did something with my body
other than trying to
make it look perfect

--Rupi Kaur

[Still creating laugh lines with my husband of 40+ years].

What You Missed That Day You Were Absent from Fourth Grade

 

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
questions on how not to feel lost in the dark

After lunch she distributed worksheets
that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—

something important—and how to believe
the house you wake in is your home. This prompted

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing
how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts
are all you hear; also, that you have enough.

The English lesson was that I am
is a complete sentence.

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation
look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking
for whatever it was you lost, and one person

add up to something.

--Brad Aaron Modlin

[Photos of my 4th-grade teacher--who was to become my beloved mother-in-law].

Blessing for the Light

 

I thank you, light, again,

for helping me to find

the outline of my daughter’s face.

I thank you light, for the subtle way

your merest touch gives shape

to such things I could

only learn to love

through your delicate instruction.

And I thank you, this morning

waking again,

most intimately and secretly

for your visible invisibility,

the way you make me look

at the face of the world

so that everything, becomes

an eye to everything else

and so that strangely,

I also see myself being seen.

So that I can be born again

in that sight, so that

I can have this one other way

along with every other way,

to know that I am here.

—David Whyte

[Our children and grandchildren with my mother, October 2022]

Essential Gratitude

 

Sometimes it just stuns you

like an arrow flung from some angel's wing.

Sometimes it hastily scribbles

a list in the air: black coffee,

thick new books,

your pillow's cool underside,

the quirky family you married into.

It is content with so little really;

even the ink of your pen along

the watery lines of your dimestore notebook

could be a swiftly moving prayer.

--Andrea Potos

[Saturday morning coffee]

For the Love of the World

For the love of a tree,
She went out on a limb.

For the love of the sea,
She rocked the boat.

For the love of the earth,
She dug deeper.

For the love of community,
She mended fences.

For the love of the stars,
She let her light shine.

For the love of spirit,

She nurtured her soul.

For the love of a good time,
She sowed seeds of happiness.

For the love of the Goddess,
She drew down the moon.

For the love of nature,
She made compost.

For the love of a good meal,
She gave thanks.

For the love of family,
She reconciled differences.

For the love of creativity,
She entertained new possibilities.

For the love of her enemies,
She suspended judgment.

For the love of herself,
She acknowledged her worth.

And the world was richer for her.

~ Charlotte Tall Mountain 

[Four generations of women in the Gardner-Baasch Family in honor of International Women's Day 2023: Great-grandmother, daughter, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters.]