Until Limits Burst (Easter Sunday)

source

1.

You are full of learning, my friend,

you can absorb no more—that is,

to pull more in, your sides must give

or your seams must rupture—that is,

you stored and hoarded way beyond

capacity.  Without release,

first flaccidity, then rigor

mortis will set in.  And then—if

you’re lucky—your container will

relax into open channels

allowing knowledge flow to flush

away what is useless, restore

what is wise and ageless, and make

room for the new and evolving.

In short, my friend, rebirth is real

if we should choose the path of life.

Death is real, too, and we submit

when tired, defeated, completed,

or petrified into non-life.

But come with me to the sunrise

service and open your eyes to

what is possible if you choose

revolution, evolution,

resurrection—if you can choose

emptying and releasing, can

share in truth and power and love.

But if that is too many ANDS

for you, it is time to let go.

2.

Walking alone

in the dark, scared

until freedom

sinks in, and then

over the hill,

the silhouette

of city, in

blue by Van Gogh,

unfinished,

just a brush stroke.

The lumps ahead

turn out to be

four people close

on a blanket

sitting, kneeling,

watching the sky

become lighter,

welcoming Light.

Blink, rest your eyes

for a second

and sunrise has

advanced so far

you stay alert

and your borders

open to know

God does not die—

God lives deeper

than we ever go. 

When chill sets in

you stand to leave.

Three still lumps

in the distance

turn out to be

wild turkey who

let us join them.

3.

God never tires of gratitude.

oh, words may be tiring, but deeds?

Trees say thank you by growing wide

and tall, by stretching out to touch,

by being available and

obedient.  You laugh and call

them “women” but I say you’re wrong—

they are obedient to God,

not to you or to men or to

power.  They are the truth of strength,

they live into their nature and

in that way they are women free

and men free, too, child free, you, me.

Laugh without cruelty if you can,

my friend.  God never tires of joy.

Posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry #349

(April is International Poetry Month.)

I started a 4th section that I lopped off because I thought it was too preachy:  

4.

You may think if 

you’re white or male

or wealthy or 

physically fit

you are exempt 

from the Soul death

of greedy people.  

You are not. 

Beware the rust and 

crust of knowing all,

beware damming 

up the rivers

that were meant to 

flow free, beware

ego that blinds, 

beware the cells

of privilege 

that bind and stop

you from serving 

others, beware

the mental blocks

that prevent Grace.

You can choose 

to grow like a tree,

you can open 

the dam to let

the river flow.  

You can let go.

My blog poems are rough drafts.   

Please respect my copyright. 

© 2017 Susan L. Chast

What You Are

Starry Night Over the Rhone by Vincent van Gogh

 

Stardust I’m told, but also a river—
A flowing body of ice cold water
and still more—its warm bedrock container.

Perception, true, but also awareness
that neither adds nor subtracts, but receives
and releases without straining borders.

You are clarity without consumption
and questions with time-sensitive answers—
not a sculptor with quickly setting clay.

Your presence meets mine (!) mixed media,
lively protean sensibility
coming / going simultaneously.

What you are is kindred and kind to me
inviting me to be quite near or far
as led, not judging where that should take us. 

What you are is artist, is magician,
is director, is performance itself,
and a sometime audience witnessing.

Posted in 

Poets United Poetry Pantry #341

My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.

© 2017 Susan L. Chast

Post-Thanksgiving Possibility

Good pain, the ache of smiles

from grateful gatherings

where humans give kindness

This love permits us to 
answer existential 
questions with yes, I am

Yes* Though frightened, I am
ready to dismantle 
systems to start anew

People did it before

so We, the People will

plan More Perfect Unions

Yes*  Although we only

commence the march toward

solutions, we will, yes

Yes* we reject ending

in period, end of

sentence, we tried, we lost

Like gardens we re-plant

each year hoping this turn

around to come down right

Last year, one rose opened

this year another bud joined in

a dozen ere death takes

Yes* we cross boundaries
but know resurrection
yes* is continuous

Revised 3 December 2016  to strengthen for Elizabeth's 

Creativity Challenge Day 13 ~ Imagination.  

Posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry. 

My blog poems are rough drafts. 
Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Wishes Before Blowing the Candles Out

source

That we Howl

now that we’ve awakened

to what we have made of our planet.

That we request

forgiveness and do

at least one thing daily

to honor energy and matter.

That we name them

Brother and Sister or

Mother Earth and Father Spirit

or Earth and Atmosphere—Life, whatever—

just call out to them with gratitude.

That we recall

when we hear the newly born

how small we once were, what birth entails

what parenting it takes to bring seeds to harvest

and how good abundance would be

in uniting and healing community

That we re-invest

our birthday gifts—

use our perception

and invention to elongate the lives

of Earth and Atmosphere,

to celebrate their life-giving processes

and the mystery of creation.

That we have

Many Happy Returns of the way

to say Happy Birthday,

and to pray: 

forgive me, thank you,

help me, use me,

show me what to do and how 

to celebrate you.

Posted at Poets United 

Poetry Pantry #322

(Having just read the news on the eve of Rosh Hashanah)

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Climbing Hand-in-Hand with Anger and Love

Longridge Fell and Pendle Hill, photo by Dr Greg

The Anger that led me upward still lives

but at my side, not running out in front.

She lets me know I am alive, there’s fire

inside I need not share with all the world.

I love and hoard her presence as my guide—not

goad—now that I approach the mountain top

where I’m surprised to find the path is wide

enough for Anger and Love’s company.

Yes, both!  They’re attracted to each other

and me in the manner of friends who would

rather gather than walk alone. I’ve seen

this, but feeling it myself is new, welcome.

Love has been here all along, but we walked

single file with Anger leading and Love

trailing behind.  This works better.  Anger

still signals, but Love and I make choices.

And we three help each other as the peak—

the blind corner known as the peak—comes near.

I feared the top, but they promise me views

I couldn’t dream before, new paths and change.

This mystery gives me energy

I haven’t felt in years, and I shake off

the certainty of Sisyphus.  We move forward—

upward—hand in hand, partners at last.

In Poets United 

Poetry Pantry #318

  My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Between a Hickory Tree and a Blessing

Baruch Ashem by Robert Ressler, photo from Grounds for Sculpture

Statues among bamboo and trees are shaped

steel, smoothed marble, cast bronze and concrete

Material and immortal, they space

themselves as if they breathe the air

As if they were an ancient Henge and not

recent, as if land-shaped and not landscaped

We walk a maze, surprised at every turn,

art teaching us to see forests as trees

And making us forget to read labels

on trunks, on posed and painted human forms

Indeed, to join the show, to rest, to note

movements of mortals, costumes of today

Or not.  To grab a bench, take out a pen,

find words and generate found poetry

And choose:  Enter deeper reality

or weave illusion on the spot.  Spit spot.  

Linger or speed, turn right or left, stand up,

or sit on architectural stages

As one with waiting things that envy trees

their roots, heartwood, green strength, wrinkles and grace.  

Nature’s Laugh by Gunnar Theel, my own photo

Posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry #316

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast 

Restorative Poetry

canyon in Chiapas with waterfall

Fall silently into this poem, my friend,

and you will find its source—a mind at rest

from ideas and suddenly aware of it.

Oh!  I have stillness!  Wow!  Quiet mind

abruptly ends, but here we are, alert

and questioning ways of falling silent:

The balm of undisturbed forests and lakes—

bodies and paddles dipping carefully

through substance that allows us entry

and bids us notice light differently

as leaves and birds and water droplets seize

on opportunities to exit shade

The resonance of city streets before

the dawn when few awake and none ramble—

straight lines and vectors try not to intercept—

when coins and bills fall from our hands gently

onto blankets of those who have no homes

and we remain anonymous like them.

How different moments of fear can be!

Those that we tiptoe through to save our lives

and those we stand up in to save others—

when we question the choice of falling silent

as action or avoidance, when we fear

making mistakes and getting too involved. 

But, ah!  This poem can act for us right now

while writing and reading, before leaving

this sweet window seat with its open air.

Later, in balance, heart-mind link regained

spirit leads us beyond our doors, restored 

powerfully from this poem, my friend.

Posted for Poets United Poetry Pantry #311

 My blog poems are rough drafts.  

Please respect my experiment and my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Step 11: Remember the Day

Sunrise by George Inness (@ 1887)

Remember the Day:

You stepped outside for refreshment and communed with trees instead of cigarettes.  You meditated instead of playing solitaire.You sought out inspiring thinkers and scripture instead of merchandise.  You let God’s Love fill you instead of snacks.

Remember the day:

Your daily fear gave way to courage. Your stepping aside became standing up. Your holding still and hoarding gave way to moving and giving. Your sense deprivation gave way to multiple channels of ministry.

Remember the day:

Your detachment from mundane matters allowed profound surrender.  Your attachment to an inner self became desire to know God’s will. Your anger at injustice gave way to empowered group action. Your desire for love transformed into loving.

Remember the day:

Your measures of worth transformed into immeasurable quality. Your attendance transformed into presence and faithfulness. Your desire to sleep forever transformed into desire to greet each new day.  You found your way.  Gratitude became your prayer.

 The day is now.  

Re-run  8/7/2016 for Poets United Poetry Pantry #314

Inspired by Richard Rohr's TWELVE-STEP SPIRITUALITY: Step Eleven

Part of my series Oh, Ye of Little Faith*

My blog poems are rough drafts. 

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Merciful Presence: a sonnet

Source

Like cats, the grass and flowers scramble for

attention—spotting my sneakers with green

and dewing my white socks.  Look at me, they

threaten, or I will tick you off!  I fear

ticks more than damp mornings, so pay tribute

outward, admire the day’s wet webs and toys

and see the birds I hear above the limbs

of trees. Intent on noticing them, I

forget the poems I haven’t finished

and dreams and threats and schemes until

I am enjoying prayer in open air—

pure communion rather than direct address—

and find a presence I could not have guessed:

nature’s refreshment without mind’s duress.

Inspired by Richard Rohr's 

Twelve-Step Spirituality: Week 1 Summary

especially its "Practice: Letting Go and Letting God"
and posted at Poets United Poetry Pantry #305.

Part of the series Oh, Ye of Little Faith*

My blog poems are rough drafts. 

Please respect my copyright.

© 2016 Susan L. Chast

Conductor*

The Universal Man, Liber Divinorum Operum
St. Hildegard of Bingen, 1165 Copy of the 13th century

Unbox me, says the mystic:

Gently remove the covers and

write me back into

community where 

I can make a difference.

Kept out here alone

I find heart

but can’t apply it.

Locked in,

can I apply what 

I have not yet found? 

Let’s make conduits for Love.

My 29th poem for April, posted at Poet United 

Poetry Pantry #301

*Note:  All April poem-a-day poems are rough drafts awaiting revision.

Copyright © 2016 Susan L. Chast