Don’t you know,don’t we knowwhat lies in our hands. A planet, round.What we touch each,resonating to theother side. Can you feel the trembleof the green treein leaf, from the wind thatpassed byon its turning circle. A planet, round.Where I standyou kneel to feel, and I am awareof how the foliagefalling, a discarded robe,is collected upand … More A Poem: Between Us
My friend takes thread and embroiders with it,each stitch an act of love. I can take a word,and sitand watch it grow. Who would have imaginedthe poetry in it. Others might see an idle moment,an absorption inconsistentwith life’s constant current. I say, what is lifebut the seed,the creative ebb and flow. My friend makes beauty … More A Poem: Mahi
God is a God who waitswith all things new. The vine soaks in the morning sun.The sap stirs and runs.We are here attached.The one who was promisedhas come, has not left. It is we who feel a quickening,to an ever giving love.We feel the sun,our blood, our skin singsin the life in which we live,connected. … More A Poem: The Vine
The grass is wet underfoot,the showers passed. The sun slants through the trees,falls in sheetsupon the field. The soul is something like a blade of grassextended straight,looking up. It moves to the wind,lies down underfoot,is on occasion, cut, then grows again,vigorous. Oh to live like grass,surrendered, evergreen in light and dark. Ana Lisa de JongLiving … More A Poem: Extended
For my bodyI would steparound in a thousand circles like the sun setsor the moon orbitsthe earth who is in lovewith whom? For my bodyI would followthe way the light hits the upperside of leavesthe trunkthe grass spread who is desiringwhom? For my bodyI would singlow trill highthe way the birdssing their morning chorus who … More A Poem: For my Body
I am a watchperson for the morning. Up there,in the wind’s domainthe clouds move as passing ships,their grey giving way to silver blue,to white,at the touch of sun. What seems ominousfrom a distancemeets the lightand changes hue,becomes transparent,is all of a sudden overcome. Revealed assuch things as they have always been,although we,with the light behind … More A Poem: Watching for the Morning
I want to be like the flower,rooted. Who has seen a flowerthat has fought its bloom, has wished itselfnot to grow. Who has seen a flowerthat has not had everything come to it, though it has stayed rootedin place. Has not seen the wind,the sun, all the seasonsvisit in turn. Yes, I want to be … More A Poem: Blooming
To sing the body awake,to sing in the small confines. The body is an instrumentto tune,to strum,the vessel in which we move,liquid grace,and as lit flames,dance. We break out,not from doors,but from the idea that ‘out beyond’is life,when at our corethe plasma burns,each cell a burst of light. So sing the body awake,move in unison,or … More A Poem: To Sing the Body
Let me recall how to lovethough I’m hardly good at it. Love is kind, and patient,which means long suffering. Love, a mirror, that in our peerswe see ourselves, the good and not so gentleto the eye, that we might ask ourselves, ‘what grace is this that covers methat I cannot extend?’ And love is not … More A Poem: Corinthians 13
When this is over will we withdraw from the silenceas a lover, sated,climbs from bed. Will we have had enough quietthat we excuse ourselves, as dinersfrom a table over-full. Will we chase everything we had left,thirsty again,or will we, in the midst of gathering,carry silence like a stone,a treasure deep, settled. Will we have let … More A Poem: Silence as Bread
Living Tree Poetry 