“It happens
all the time in heaven,
And some day
It will begin to happen
Again on earth –
That men and women
who are married,
And men and men
who are
Lovers,
And women and women
Who give each other
Light,
Often will get down
on their knees
And while so tenderly
Holding their lover’s hand,
With tears in their eyes,
Will sincerely speak, saying,
“‘My dear,
How can I be
more loving to you;
How can I be more
Kind?'”
~ Hafiz
Written last night, After a several day “extreme heat” spell.
————-
Hello, 63 degrees. I feel you gossiping with the trees. My windows are all grinning widely waiting for the breeze.
————-
A photo from last summer at Hume Lake…
Half Acre
I am holding half an acre
Torn from the map of Michigan
And folded in this scrap of paper
Is a land I grew in
Think of every town you’ve lived in
Every room, you lay your head
And what is it that you remember?
Do you carry every sadness with you
Every hour your heart was broken
Every night the fear and darkness
Lay down with you
A man is walking on the highway
A woman stares out at the sea
And light is only now just breaking
So we carry every sadness with us
Every hour our heart were broken
Every night the fear and darkness
Lay down with us
But I am holding half an acre
Torn from the map of Michigan
I am carrying this scrap of paper
That can crack the darkest sky wide open
Every burden taken from me
Every night my heart unfolding
My home
Dust to Dust
It’s not your eyes
It’s not what you say
It’s not your laughter that gives you away
You’re just lonely
You’ve been lonely, too long
All your actin’
Your thin disguise
All your perfectly delivered lies
They don’t fool me
You’ve been lonely, too long
Let me in the wall, you’ve built around
And we can light a match and burn it down
Let me hold your hand and dance ’round and ’round the flame
In front of us
Dust to dust
You’ve held your head up
You’ve fought the fight
You bear the scars
You’ve done your time
Listen to me
You’ve been lonely, too long
Let me in the wall, you’ve built around
And we can light a match and burn them down
And let me hold your hand and dance ’round and ’round the flames
In front of us
Dust to dust
You’re like a mirror, reflecting me
Takes one to know one, so take it from me
You’ve been lonely
You’ve been lonely, too long
We’ve been lonely
We’ve been lonely, too long
Bleeding Heart
My heart is bleeding. It bleeds upward and fills
my mouth up with salt. It bleeds because of a city in ruins,
the chair still warm from sister’s body,
because it will all be irreproducible. My heart
bleeds because of baby bear not finding mama bear and it bleeds
to the tips of my fingers like I painted my nails Crimson.
Sometimes my heart bleeds so much I am a raisin.
It bleeds until I am a quivering ragged clot, bleeds at the ending
with the heroine and her sunken cancer eyes, at the ending
with the plaintive flute over smoke-choked killing fields. I’m bleeding
a river of blood right now and it’s wearing a culvert in me for the blood. My heart
rises up in me, becomes the cork of me and I choke on it. I am bleeding
for you and for me and for the tiny babies and the IED-blown
leg. It bleeds because I’m made that way, all filled up with blood,
my sloppy heart a sponge filled with blood to squeeze onto
any circumstance. Because it is mine, it will always bleed.
My heart bled today. It bled onto the streets
and the steps of city hall. It bled in the pizza parlor with the useless jukebox.
I’ve got so much blood to give inside and outside of any milieu.
Even for a bad zoning decision, I’ll bleed so much you’ll be bleeding,
all of us bleeding in and out like it’s breathing,
or kissing, and because it is righteous and terrible and red.
Little bird, big song
announcing her intention
straight into my heart.
–Kathryn Harper
Abuddha
Late at night alone
I sit listening
to the tock tock tock
of raindrops dancing rooftop.
The patter of rain
drapes like a blanket
over night’s shoulders —
rhythmic murmured lullaby.
This moment, awake.
And this one. Now this.
This moment too, eternal.
–Kathryn Harper
Almost six years ago I sat my first sesshin at Hazy Moon Zen Center. I did not return, for many reasons and rationalizations. But when my teacher put a winter weekend sesshin on the calendar, I committed to come. It was wonderful sitting with so many people and creating community. These are some small reflections on my experience. A huge rainstorm visited LA, unusual and impressive for California, and a gesture from nature that we might be worthy of deliverance from drought.
Practice has become a priority. Six years will not pass before I sit sesshin again.
———
Reflections on Sesshin
Rain strikes the city
like a kyosaku startling
dusty streets awake.
The rain converses
with the windows
while water gushing
through gutters holds
a debate with the sidewalk.
Nearly six whole years past
the rooster still crows at dawn
in downtown L.A.
I met my match
outwaited her impatience
wrestled her on the mat
until she cried
not my way, the Way
then bowed
and walked into the day.
–Kathryn Harper
For Swap-bot, I joined a project that required writing a sestina.
According to the Academy of American Poets:
“The sestina follows a strict pattern of the repetition of the initial six end-words of the first stanza through the remaining five six-line stanzas, culminating in a three-line envoi. The lines may be of any length, though in its initial incarnation, the sestina followed a syllabic restriction. The form is as follows, where each numeral indicates the stanza position and the letters represent end-words:
ABCDEF
FAEBDC
CFDABE
ECBFAD
DEACFB
BDFECA
(envoi)(tercet) BE. DC. FA.
The envoi, a tercet, must contain two of the repeated words per line.”
So, here is what created itself within me.
The Dance
There I stood, waiting for the express
While pondering ways to renew
my flagging spirit, which struggled to climb
life’s mounting challenges, when I saw you, serene,
your hands moving in the air, a kind of dance —
the glorious joy on your face making you rich.
Gazing around, I noticed the world’s colors were rich.
In each person I sensed the soul’s desire to express,
to enter into the dance.
I felt that I could summon the energy to renew
and make myself serene
like an arbor trellis with those roses that climb.
To reach far, to stretch toward goals that require I climb —
this makes life worthwhile, and I feel rich.
In these moments, my heart beats serene.
I vibrate with life and tremble to express,
to evolve, to embrace impermanence and thus renew
life’s eternal dance.
So, which steps will we choose to dance?
Will it be the hustle, the two-step, the fandango climb?
Or maybe a slow waltz, to allow our breathing to renew
while rhythmically moving to the beat, slow and rich.
Perhaps we will lean in to share a kiss, to express
what tantalizes us as we attempt to appear serene.
We might do this under the silver light of the moon, serene
in the movement of the dance
and the people watching — their murmurs will express
how desire steeps, distills, intensifies, like the climb
of mercury trapped in a glass tube, the red rich
like blood, like the lungs give oxygen to renew.
And after we untwine ourselves, we turn within to renew
the relationship with the One who never leaves, the serene
companion who understands money does not make one rich;
nor does having it guarantee an invitation to the dance
and that life is often one painful, slogging climb
to an illusory summit that cannot contain all we express.
The koan: how to renew attention, surrender to the dance
or rest serene, no longer compelled to grasp or climb,
sitting in life’s rich mystery, waiting on emptiness to express.
–Kathryn Harper
This ATC was created for a swap focusing on something in nature. At least one item in the card had to be from nature.
And a couple of haiku!
A sand dollar moon
peers heavenward, smiling to
her silver sister.
*****
Ocean origin
star within echoes secrets
hidden in apples.
–Kathryn Harper
Glimpses of My Daughter At Age Six
She is a sunflower-yellow
hourglass with a
center of nipple pink intensity
bouncing, twirling, burbling, squawking
like a Steller’s jay.
She is inside with Peter, Paul, and Mary,
multiplying three times infinity
in her rocking chair.
She is an apple, crisp and fresh,
the guitar singing melodies
sometimes jarring and jangling ears.
She’s a meandering stream of galaxies,
an ancient Redwood soul, not
fearing abandonment –
a kaleidoscope of wonder.
–Kathryn Harper
My dear Fur Person friend, Stella Bella the cat, died today. She was 17 years old. She had tumors in her bladder and on her lung. Sometime I will write about the adventures we had with her, and her many catly qualities. But today, just this.
Farewell Stella
I stroke your fur
no purr
frail limbs give
no resistance
laid out tenderly
no movement
eyes half open
no vision.
It was a good life
a long life
and we let you go
before we wanted
to spare you suffering.
It is the least we could do
for all the joy and love
you gave us.
–Kathryn Harper
Heaven on Earth
Green fern seas froth
around redwood ships.
Mammoth masts mask
the sun. The journey
through a cathedral of
peace only occasionally
adorned by bird trills
or underbrush rustling.
–Kathryn Harper
Reunion
Shiver quiver chill
fall rain embraces the hills
to kiss them green again.
–Kathryn Harper
Zazen
On the black cushion
a stone sinking and floating
into the dark light.
–Kathryn Harper
