At the Living Edge

 

source

When I am not shaking on the edge

but awake and listening beyond

the sunlight on the surface of moons,

I sense the secret of steadiness—

which is this—that creation does not

pause because one of us tires or God

(by any and all names) concentrates

elsewhere. Creation without ceasing

forms its own safety net now that we

are many and are productive as

the trees and mushrooms who teach us.

If I take my eyes off destruction,

it will not cause the earth to expire.

Indeed, the earth is waiting for us

to grow on the living edge of soul.

 

Posted for Susan's prompt "Open link" at What's Going On? 

Originally written for the earthweal weekly challenge on 5 January 2022.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

My parents were happy

 

“My mother and father were happy.”
As a child, I caught rare glimpses.
Photographs help me to remember
their big smiles, their playful tongue faces,
how they hugged, Sunday rides over hills
and to the Hudson River, play days at
the Catskill Game Farm, visits to friends,
holidays. Story time and bedtime.
School days slip from memory.  
Raising children was serious business. 
But in their seventy-three-year marriage,
joy returned again and again.  Dad interacted
in the neighborhood. Mom became an artist. 
The fruits of their happiness surround me still.

 

For Mary's prompt "Let Tove Ditlevsen Inspire you!" at What's Going On?  

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Opening Doors in Retirement Community

  

The Open Door, Peter Ilsted (c.1910)

We hold doors open for each other—
a kindness that promotes peace among
neighbors.  Elevator doors could close too fast
for walkers and rollators and cleaning carts.
Doors to porches are too heavy for one,
so others step up to lighten the load.
 
“Do you want company?” opens doors
to friendship, and “Is this seat taken?”
opens the conversation of mealtime,
a favorite activity.  We linger in the dining
room to finish a line of thought with the
same or changing constellations of people.
 
Listening is a door opening that always opens other doors,
as awareness is key to “Love thy neighbor as thyself.”
Share, invite in, leave space for time alone?
“Do you want help?” is a kind pause before rushing in. 
Believing in the autonomy of each is a kindness
often neglected in the larger world.
 
Or is all this door opening ordinary? I didn’t
have a close-knit family, and sibling rivalry
took center stage.  As a teacher, I tried to invite
it into my classrooms with varying success. But here
in retirement community we open doors with
grace that is constant, relaxing, and welcome.

For Sherry's prompt "Small Kindnesses" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Your Eyes

The wonder in your eyes
is different from wondering.
There is no question, not really,
instead, just awe and delight.
 
We like to let mystery be
rather than pull the petals
off before their time. 
We wait for their opening.
 
I love to see delight in your eyes
—a little smile twinkles
in the iris, with an extra smile
line below the bottom lash.
 
Sometimes delight is silent,
like a bell before it rings,
but your eyes can’t hide delight
and you sparkle, head high.
 
Hurt and anger change your eyes, too.
You broadcast them with pulling in
or glaring out, and your mouth
is set, neither smiling nor frowning.
 
I am happy when your eyes enjoy,
sad when you dull down,
taking time to sort out the hurt
and anger, taking time for calm.
 
But always, I am grateful for your eyes.
I love the way they reveal inner vision
while you are looking out at the world,
Or maybe only when you see me.

For Mary's prompt "Eyes" at What's Going On?  

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Hope and House Sparrows

 

 

source

I hear you chirping all day, dear sparrows,
as you soar back and forth between castle
turrets and the trees around them. You seem
to have happy hopeful hearts, little ones.
 
I trusted in the blue flag which turned out
to be just a flag.  I lost hope in
government and its concern over
climate change and humanity.
 
Now I look closer to home and farther
away in nature.  What will she bring?
Can prayer and vigilance do the rest?
Sing, sweet house sparrows, center me here.

For Sherry's prompt "Hope--"The Hardest Love We Carry" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast 

Finding Balance

 

Is there a formula for how time
passes as we age?  At age five, a year
is a long one-fifth of a lifetime.  At
age seventy-five, a year swiftly passes as 
one-seventy-fifth of a lifetime.  Yet
an hour at either age can be endless
depending on positive or negative
experience and how engaged you are
in the moment.  For me, at seventy-
five, positive and negative events
are like foreground/background phenomena.
Double awareness holds them together
in an ever-changing balancing act.
 
I’m not in a war or immigrant zone,
but I’m aware of both the killing and the
displacing.  I carry that with me into
the serene forests where I once prayed and
danced.  The sacred dance didn’t end when
I stopped dancing.  It continues when I
leave the woods for heavier atmospheres.
Sacredness underscores protest, phone calls,
and letter writing.  At times, protest becomes
sacred dance.  Transformation of foreground
and background is the balance I’m sometimes
blessed to find in my ever decreasing
time on earth and ever deepening hours. 

 

For my prompt "Mathematics!?" at What's Going On? 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright

© 2026 Susan L. Chast