Saturday, May 30, 2009

Lilies at Twilight

The lily pads are purple to reflect the setting sun. The water is orange and gold to reflect the last rays of the sun. I was inspired by Monet’s water lilies and wanted to try my own rendition. The water lily is the national flower of Bangladesh.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

No More War!

The woman sings in her kitchen
Children play outside before dinner
Husbands come home from work...tired
Some from fields, factories or office
Strikes up a conversation with his wife
Gathers his children in his arms
As they sit and eat together
All beneath a late afternoon sun
Which shines on us all
The sun does not discriminate

But now silence...
Except for bombs
Beneath the sun
Lies makeshift graves
Of men who will never come home again
Children who will never again to feel his arms
Widows will wail instead of sing
No longer a longer a Home
Children and women unprotected
Just to disease and hunger
As if it were a mistake to be born

It could be Palestine, Iraq, Afghanistan, Kashmir
Places we once called Home
Burned beyond recognition

When we will pass away
There will be no color to identify ourselves
There will only be One Reality
Our feet and hands will speak
Bear witness
To what we have done to our fellow man

The Magnolia Tree

The Magnolia Tree

Here lies my daughter in my arms
Another child lies dying
Because of war
In her mother's arms
While the world
Trembles aggressively
Yet, still the magnolias
Sway calmly unaware
With the confines of my garden
As the seasons casually unfolds themselves
Since I was a child
I am tired of watching these pages turn
My time a routine...cut into sections
Watching my face grow older
Not keeping my youthful promises

Here lies my daughter in my arms
Watching in fascination
The magnolias so unearthly pink
Bloom so fully within a week
To her a week is endless
But to this week will be unnoticed by me
Where is my duty
To be blinded by the mundane
I want to so much take these dying children home
Claim the homeless...feed the starving
Rock them in my arms at night
Empathize with their mother's grief
Realize their small lives

Here lies my daughter in my arms
The wind has blown at the end of the week
The now rotting blossoms
To the ground
She notices....asks why they have fallen
Yes...child, another spring has passed
The world is unsafe...and I am helpless
I feel that I can do nothing

Friday, January 23, 2009

A Piece of Me

The stars have fallen down in worship
And between the stars
There is so much longing
And you have become a piece of me
Buried beneath the muscle of my heart
The nightingale cries
And the wind blows through
Moonlit trees
As I sit here on this prayer rug
All of nature rushes into me
The leaves, the trees, the vines
Enter the windows
And wrap around me
I want this marriage
Between you and I
That I have imagined
And not to be a facet of the dream
But to be a part of the Real
Beyond ritual and culture
The false reality of day
Blinds me
Despite the beauty of your signs
At night..all the masks drop off
You are closer than the juggler vein
Of my neck
I tremble with love and fragility
As I prostrate myself
Before you

Finding Home

Empty hours
Like starless nights
Filled with longing...longing
For something more
The painful cold
Only to imagine you
Within the corner of my heart
Bitter cold
I am trembling
This winter seems
To never end

I dream of spring
Beneath moonlit skies
Orion in South
Like a father
Looking down
Gardens in moonlight
Wildflowers like lace
Upon fields
I dream of caves
Standing waist deep
In healing waters
My head bowed down in worship
And I have learned
How to profoundly love
As your light
Envelopes me
I know that you will remain
With me....
And within my heart
You will find a Home