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.