Being Human (Adapted) ~ Naima Penniman
I wonder…
if the sun debates dawn some mornings
not wanting to rise out of bed from under the down-feather horizon
if the sky grows tired of being everywhere at once …
if clouds drift off trying to hold themselves together
make deals with gravity to loiter a little longer
I wonder if rain is scared of falling - if it has trouble letting go
if snowflakes get sick of being perfect all the time each one trying to be one-of-a-kind
I wonder if stars wish upon themselves before they die
if they need to teach their young how to shine…
I wonder if shadows long to just-for-once feel the sun if they get lost in the shuffle not knowing where they’re from
I wonder if sunrise and sunset respect each other even though they’ve never met
if volcanoes get stressed, if storms have regrets, if compost believes in life after death
I wonder if breath ever thinks of taking a break,
if the wind just wants to sit still sometime
if smoke was born knowing how to rise
if rainbows get shy back stage not sure if their colors match right
if streams meet the wrong sea and
their whole lives run off-track
I wonder if the snow wants to be black
if the soil thinks she’s too dark
if butterflies want to cover up their marks
if rocks are self-conscious of their weight i
f mountains are insecure of their strength
I wonder if waves get discouraged crawling up the sand
only to be pulled back again to where they began
if land feels stepped upon,
if sand feels in significant ,
if the leaves understand they’re replaceable and still dance when the wind blows
I wonder where the moon goes when she is in hiding
I want to find her there
and watch the ocean spin from a distance listen to her stir in her sleep
effort give way to existence…
What’s in a Temple? (excerpt) ~ Tom Barrett
In the quiet spaces of my mind a thought lies still, but ready to spring.
It begs me to open the door so it can walk about.
The poets speak in obscure terms, pointing madly at the unsayable.
The sages say nothing, but walk ahead, patting their thigh, calling for us to follow.
The monk sits pen in hand, poised to explain the cloud of unknowing.
The seeker seeks, just around the corner from the truth.
If she stands still, it will catch up with her.
Pause with us here a while.
Put your ear to the wall of your heart.
Listen for the whisper of knowing there.
Love will touch you if you are very still.
We don’t build meany temples anymore.
Maybe we learned that the sacred can’t be contained.
or maybe it can’t be sustained inside a building.
Buildings crumble.
It’s the spirit that lives on.
If you had a temple in the secret spaces of your heart,
what would you worship there?
What would you bring to sacrifice?
What would be behind the curtain in the holy of holies?
Go there now.
Look behind the curtain.