observations

as  a cattle car moves
without thought, a tree
holds onto its last branch with three leaves
life has been taken over
with words touting the undead

i am but observer, yet i too
have death awaiting; an elderly dog
stares into my eyes asking, Today?
all appears out of balance, as rope
drawn tight in front of me
i am overcome by fear

one misplaced step
a bed of rocks, or a bed of roses
i can not discern
from this height

the rhythm of the morning
is greeted by a chirping nest of fledglings
and sunlit shadows crossing
a now vacant room - having lived
and died many times over, i still find
the darkness uncomfortably
quiet

there is movement
in the kitchen - the old dog
wants to be fed
hope holds it own, the first fledgling
takes flight

bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011

Poets and Saints

Thomas Merton 1915 - 1968

Trappist Monk, Author; Poet, Spiritual Leader

"Many poets are not poets for the same reason that many religious men are not saints: they never succeed in being themselves……..They waste their years in vain efforts to be some other poet, or some other saint. ….They wear out their minds and bodies in a hopeless endeavor to have somebody else’s experiences or write somebody else’s poem or possess somebody else’s spirituality."  Thomas Merton - New Seeds of Contemplation (Chapter Integrity)

I was re-reading this on my old blog and thought it worth sharing, and a great reminder for myself......bkm