20 February 2021

For the Kin in Kindness

Source


 

 If we are already dead

(if our planet is dying),

I won't hide under the snow, but

will take the pit out from my stomach

and watch it resolve to glow

despite, because, time after time 

resolve means re-solving. 

Finding the solution in my belly

is growth.  Grow.  Glow. 

No stopping, no pity, only kindness.

Listen for the kin in kind.



For earthweal weekly challenge: ALREADY DEAD



My blog poems are rough drafts.
   Please respect my copyright. 
 If you quote, credit this page.
     © 2021 Susan L. Chast



15 February 2021

One Life

Source


It's one little life
for you to lead.
If you will, indeed.

Not his or theirs or
a tree's, just this one
where I walk, this one.

If you please, touch air
or ground or water
or me, and know you.

Under all the roles
you play, I stand by,
watch, and stay alive.

Curled up in each you
I wait and I pray
you will stop, rest, stay.

Like this, just like now,
walking my ever
green-needled color.

Turning brown before
falling to cushion
your sound, your passion.

For the green, orange
and brown pine forests
provide, heart in my breast.

Loud in its loving
of this time with me
I love patiently.

For you join me here
where without strife
I live one sound life.

Lean on a pine branch
smelling crisp and free
remembering me.




My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright. 
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2021 Susan L. Chast



01 February 2021

Putting It All Together



1. Wonder 
Older and braver 
we ease toward neighbor trees 
close enough to learn. 

2. Grieve 
See my wound and let 
me see yours. See potential 
limbs that scar tall trees. 

3. Fight 
Freeze, flee, fawn, and flop 
won’t serve us today. 
Faith shields our roots.


Teaching and practice with Valarie Kaur
Part two of her compass: Tend the Wound

4. Rage
Catching rage in jars
where it lights up like fireflies
signaling its truths.

5. Listen
Those of us who can
read fireflies welcome their sparks
and take detailed notes.

6. Re-Imagine
In tree branches, dreams
of collective creation
change everything.




Teaching and practice with Valarie Kaur
Part three of her compass: Breathe and Push


7. Breathe
Reaching forward with
breath as if we were trees with
roots nearly entwined.

8. Push
Reach. Inhale. Exhale.
Prepare. Forgive. Try again
with lighter load.

9.  Transition
We are not alone.
Pain sears temporarily.
And then roots touch roots.

10. Joy
Engagement begins!
And to know relationship
thrills, pulses in our roots.

or
You must have joy like
chocolate chips in cereal—
semi-sweet, alive.



   Please respect my copyright. 
 If you quote, credit this page.
     © 2021 Susan L. Chast




30 January 2021

Engagement

 

7. Breathe
Reaching forward with
breath as if we were trees with
roots nearly entwined.

8. Push
Reach. Inhale. Exhale.
Prepare. Forgive. Try again
with lighter load.

9.  Transition
We are not alone.
Pain sears temporarily.
And then roots touch roots.

10. Joy
Engagement begins!
And to know relationship
thrills, pulses in our roots.

or
You must have joy like
chocolate chips in cereal—
semi-sweet, alive.




My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright. 
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2021 Susan L. Chast


28 January 2021

Contact

bit.ly/RevLoveLearningHub 
Copyright © 2020 The Revolutionary Love Project

Teaching and practice with Valarie Kaur
Part two of her compass: Tend the Wound


4. Rage
Catching rage in jars
where it lights up like fireflies
signalling its truths.

5. Listen
Those of us who can
read fireflies welcome their sparks
and take detailed notes.

6. Re-Imagine
In tree branches, dreams
of collective creation
change everything.


My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright. 
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2021 Susan L. Chast


26 January 2021

Where Death Stands

 

source



We don't have a guestroom,
so death stands in doorways,
and we brush against it
when we enter and leave
any room, any time.
It's become familiar,
so I ask it to sit
and tell me its  values.
It doesn't reply, but
I hear-touch its surprise.
And the visit extends
way past need, I think, just
as a vampire might stretch
its welcome as long as 
life blood replenishes.

But death is neither god
nor vampire.  Death shocks by
believing in mercy.
I sit on my anger, 
constraining it to ask
What have you to teach me?
What has my fear of you
taught me?  I ask myself
these questions too, looking
into death's pale silence.
Covid is another
story, I say, anger
flaring, and I feel death's
No.   I say, It's unfair.
But death shows me the world:

Nowhere is there fair or
unfair, only unexpected.
Even in the poorest
places, people reach for
life with armfuls of love.



My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright. 
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2021 Susan L. Chast