Polishing Our Mirror

I'm old(er)    
  and proud of every laugh line      
    a crow's talon has carved        
    into this olive landscape        
       
My mother was buried at 34;      
    never lived to see me graduate        
    marry, or give birth        
      to the next generation of her      
       
I remember thinking        
  how old she was      
But, recognized my ignorance        
  when I actually matured        
       
I recognize yours too-      
  and laugh ( though not deridingly )      
    enough to fill a Universe;        
      you're ridiculing the very galaxy      
      you're orbiting yourself;      
       
      incomprehension at its finest:      
       proud and unexperiened        
       
By the time you dock        
  ( and you will live that long )      
on that golden Death Star      
   of middle-age to live it out    
   I'll be long into another lifetime;      
       
Young, free      
  maybe even a titanium ring      
    on a moth's wing      
Or, perhaps a young girl        
    in Bangladesh        
       
Regardless-      
       
I won't be mocking your age      
  ( that will be someone else )      
  or scoffing physical attributes:      
   aesthetics, a handicap, disease,        
   mental illness, intellect, years        
       
I undoutedly learned that lesson        
  in a past existence        
because it never once occurred      
  to act such a way in this one        
  ( though I've been falsely accused );
 
I know better      
       
I'm old(er)      
 and proud of every laugh line      
    a crow's talon has carved      
    into this olive landscape      
       
Because I'm alive at 58      
  been blessed with children      
  lived to see them graduate        
     enter relationships and give birth        
      to the next generation of me      
       
And ( no, I'm not finished yet ) -      
       
because Love is my greatest reward      
  So "Why should I be unhappy?"      
When "Every parcel of my being        
   is in full bloom."      
       
I probably have less life to live      
  than I've lived so far; that's okay-      
I can honestly say,        
       
Aye! here's the rub;      
  the two things I prayed for came true      
  my mirror is all but polished too      
       
My genuine wish for you, young(er)      
  counterpart, is no less than the same;      
Wisdom commands it of sincerity         
  ( though in ignorance        
        you may not yet believe )      
 
~  
 
#Rumi

Up he'yah in these mount'ns
lessons ah hahd as wintah  
  
Too much weight    
on ah frozen lake'll crack it  
from ah branch'll snap it    
in a hart'll break it    
   
Thas exactly what ya want    
'caus then ya don't have ta worry  
bout it breaking no more    
   
Long time ago I discovah'd  
I was hurt'n myself    
by tak'n things all personal;  
   
it's not what was said  
but what I was think'n;  
tha uffend'd, hurt, angry paht    
is ya wound talk'n    
   
an ya wound is tell'n ya someth'n  
if ya listen:    
   
stop bandag'n the pain    
let it bleed, surrendah    
 
I rose above it all-    
discovah'd freedom I'd nevah known  
 
Cause "The wound    
is where the light enters"    
~

#Rumi

We sometimes cannot take
the bombardment
all that so well meant advice
close your ears
turn that channel off
the breath on the mirror

the clouds to blind
what we might see
the one way look
the silvered gloss refined
the breath on the mirror hides

the veil that clarity provides
is self deceit of epic highs
illusions deceptions
condensation like the truth
breath on the mirror dries

self introspection
a vanity on reflection
to clean will cause friction
to rub that condition
to hold you breath and smile

Emotional reaction
visceral
confrontation
 
Electing calmly
to disengage
 
Her rage
not my burden
 
Pain she bears
unknown to me
not my place
to judge
that which I cannot see
 
Knowing not
her path
nor where
her travels led
alternatively
I offer
prayers for her instead
 
I shall shoulder
no resentment
heart open
mind free
as I know her actions
had nil to do with me

Autumn is chameleon in nature;    
  a barely perceptible paradigm shift      
    birthed from the death      
    of all that is blatantly overt        
       
Mutation is subtle, a non combative      
  surrender to the natural cycle it brings  
       
We who resist will stumble        
   typically over our own feet        
     attempting to mold circumstance        
     to personal need      
       
Live, let Life present itself;        
  happiness belongs to those      
  who understand release      
  and moving forward are both      
    essential for growth-      
      in this life and the next        
       
Shadowbox if you must        
  but it will prove fruitless        
  against those living beyond the dark      
       
Vendettas are a karmic turn of events      
    reflected in our own mirror        
       
There's so much to partake      
  of this reverent palette-      
synchronized murmerations      
painting air with flight-      
  patterned gratitude        
       
Shredded foilage        
  eddied in arctic offering      
State fairs and Halloween        
  funnel cakes on ferris wheels:      
a Thanksgiving of harvest      
  from the garden we've sown        
       
Live, let Life present itself      
  in the stillness of whatever becomes      
       
If you're reaping a bitter taste      
  purchase organic fruits:        
    Love, acceptance, grace;     
plant their seeds next spring      
       
We learn to survive errors      
  by bankrupting emotional reservoirs        
    one glacial winter at a time      
  until warmly content      
       
Some learn from a single crop failure      
  while another may take a lifetime-      
      their sore thumb juxtaposing      
      a counterpart's apple green        
       
Yet, both are fraternal twins        
      fragmented from the same gene        
~  
 
 
#Rumi

When I am silent,    
I have thunder hidden inside.      
~ Rumi      
     
Noise germinates verbiage -    
  culturing communication    
  inside petri-dished moments      
     
When distance dissipates      
  proximity dissolves necessity      
  of sound beyond breathing
 
Barrel-chested rhythms      
  replace words with innate understanding;
 
blood becomes a messenger      
  subcutaneously carrying      
  an antidote of silence      
superior to our human language      
     
What is innately known      
  rises to the surface;      
hidden thunder reverberates      
     
~

#Rumi

' If you are irritated by every rub, how will your mirror be polished? '
   - Rumi

‘My Love, you are memory, you are all I try to forget, but can’t...
We have been apart too long to stay in chains, I must absorb you,
    breathe you in like air, swallow you like water..
 The viscosity of you is that of my blood flowing to keep me alive...
 You are the mist I feel on my skin but cannot see...
 You are always all around me and nowhere as well and at once...
 We, together are everywhere, unable to be destroyed...
  This is how we shall endure, wrapped in the mystery from  
    which we originated..’
 
 
Here I sit, remembered.
The leaves of trees above rustle
with my voice repeating all I have told them
in their gentle language and reminding me
of our past meetings and how I have grown
like they have.
 
More leaves emerge to shade
to require rain, yet I have been shaded  
in their midst as I have grown and yet
my leafing out continues.
My summer drags on and doesn’t  
fear its end.
 
Every summer I return to see  
my summer friends again and
somehow the wild things are still here.
They go on living so I believe I can too.
The summer beauty motivates me to
make it to the next one.
 
And when it fades it has a beauty  
all its own and it promises to return,
to not fully depart, in this way  
Summer lives on through my memory of it.
I see myself in every leaf, and how finite
they all are yet I cannot be defined by this,
I have too much growing to do.
 
The reflection changes but will not be
rubbed away from my memory even as
the leaves meet Autumn to fall and change.
I shall return next year undaunted by remembrance  
and what it has done to my landscape
how it has changed me.
 
Underneath the trees I am the same as before
as they are, fully remembered and alive
here underneath them and sheltered by them
in this shade of insight where I am renewed
in this remembering place.
 
     ‘ What hurts you blesses you,
       darkness is your candle’
 
                          .....

       #Rumi