19 October 2014

The Previous Incident of the Light in the Dark-Time

File:Ferguson, Night 2, Photo 1.png
Where Michael Brown diedFerguson, Night 2


In prison, Light strengthened its will
to ease the pain of the Dark-Times—
un-repentant, attracting friends.

Forbidden to buy its weapons,
Light found a back-alley seller
who promised to protect its back.

Probation did not deter Light
from returning to the crime scene
then, Hope and Love in its pockets.

Hands free to touch voices, Light now
washes our fingers and toes, feeds
us pocket crumbs, lessens our fears .

It guides healers alongside us
so—as we take time to hear each
one’s story—community grows.

No longer battling or alone,
Light refuses to abandon
or hasten the transformation.

No longer an isolated
or finite incident, Light flows
over the Dark-Times where it glows.



Posted for Kerry's 

Sunday Mini-Challenge: In Other Words

at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads


Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast



18 October 2014

Partaking

Catskill Waterfall by John Frederick Kensett 1859



While planning the trip
I sprinted down slopes
and climbed over rocks,
stretched limbs happily alive
under wind-assisted sun.

Ah!

Now I, cane-seat
open, smell the air
in the hollow, squinting
watery eyes, frowning at
the ones crashing upward.

Shh.

I imagine I ascended
more quietly once, as 
a deer showing fawns
how to move undetected
homeward in underbrush.

Let it be.

No critique, no heaviness
for those who meet
me, those who partake
of this outdoor feast—
cell phones off—
their gift to me.

Smile.

And the sun warms
the hand I palm
to my heart, beat
strong enough to open
and hold the day.




Posted in Poets United Poetry Pantry #223


Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast



17 October 2014

Creatures

"Puck" Marble @1856 by Harriet Hosmer
photo by Margaret Bednar


My Dear Sons in woods, sea and the wild,
you carry out my work successfully! 
Let me treat you now the stage lights are down.

Ariel, sit on my right at table,
nearest my good ear.  Puck,
say hello to the salamanders and
toads before joining us—they miss you so.

I owe you freedom from my dreaming, owe
you my fortune and would give you the world—
you have earned it.  Keep characters who please
or stick to your own kind, as kindly as
possible.  Surpass me.  That’s all I ask.

That—and to be here again, script in hand
where ever we must play, at my command.
at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads


Prospero and Ariel by Eric Gill on the facade of the Broadcasting House in London
Photo by 
Dcastor


Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast



I/We

File:Daedalus en Icarus Jeanot Bürgi Nieuwegracht Utrecht.JPG
Daedalus en Icarus Jeanot Bürgi Nieuwegracht Utrecht


I am as moon to God
if I will do as told
in reflecting that sun.
Icarus, like my moon,
is obedient half
insubordinate half
in waxing, is waning.

We are like Daedalus
when planning escape, un
willing—unable—to
work our skills alone. And
would you see God?  Look at
what we produce.  Look at,
watch, where we are going. 



Inspired by Vandana's MeetingTheBar: Pleiades at dVerse Poets Pub and by Richard Rohr's Daily Meditation for Friday, 17 October 2014, "The Principle of Likeness: My Mystery Opens Me to God’s Mystery."






Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast




Hermit


Hearth me? I will conjure
home-made soup and biscuits
here for this one night, dear
heart, but will not tarry.
Hold me. Let’s share as much
hope as will suffice for
happiness, one night's heat.

Hestia was virgin
handmaid in self-defense.
However, I need not be.
Hermit is my name, but
have we not touched souls as
handles on the same urn?
Haven't we cause for pleasure?


Written for Vandana's MeetingTheBar: Pleiades at dVerse Poets Pub.  I borrowed this double form from Rosemary N-W.


Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast

15 October 2014

Yard Work



The white pine is half dead with more orange
needles than green—I face it helplessly
every limb supplicant. Chemicals failed
to kill parasites between its fingers—
I feel its pain and know it wants to live.

Three feet high when I planted it, it’s now
thrice my height, nicely filling the half yard
vacated by grand-mom sugar maple—
my hope to replace lawn mower and
rake with soft walks on moss and pine carpets.

We pray together. I take pictures for
the nursery. Nursery! May we still
rock its cradle to nurture? Let it shake
its body loose of illness, do yoga with
me, breathe together into the night.



Posted for my prompt 

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Tree(s)


Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast