I start out on this road,
call it love or emptiness.
I only know what's not here.
Resentment seeds, backscratching greed,
worrying about outcome, fear of people.
When a bird gets free,
it does not go back for remnants
left on the bottom of the cage.
Close by, I'm rain. Far off,
a cloud of fire. I seem restless,
but I am deeply at ease.
Branches tremble. The roots are still.
I am a universe in a handful of dirt,
whole when totally demolished.
Talk about choices does not apply to me.
While intelligence considers options,
I am somewhere lost in the wind.
when in doubt
ReplyDeletefly northwest in the spring and summer
fly southwest during fall and winter
stay right where you are and begin to sing!
when the dead of winter feels like spring
if jet stream's wind currents feel too strong
fly perpendicular like you'd swim along
when rip tides try to pull you out
disregard everything when nothing matters
crazy friend traveling with is aka mad hatter
Dusti: Big :D
ReplyDeleteThat's brilliant and amazing.
Blog heaven! -- Hi, Ruth,
ReplyDeleteI just found your blog right now. What a beauty it is!
And this poem ... "whole when totally demolished" ... that's pure Rumi ... and pure Coleman -- this combo of original voice and contemporary muse reminds me of the bond that Rumi and Shams shared. Bonds like this are utterly timeless, and they *do* demolish ... !
Thank you for what you've created here :-)
Jaliya