Peaking Through Chrysalis (with Spoken Word)

The butterfly lives
Just
The right
Length
Of time.

(Don’t we all?)

Now we are two butterflies,
Peaking through chrysalis
At a world we once ate
Now we are to pollinate.
Our eyes see God in flowers.
Our flesh carries seeds.
We stick to one another.
We have become:

A world
I cannot imagine
Without you.

Two butterflies
Dancing on air
As was
Certain.

With a nod to Tom Robbins’ Another Roadside Attraction

9th September 2018 – Come Sit with me at the Go Dog Go Cafe

Please stop by the Go Dog Go this week and share a cup of coffee with Gina.

Go Dog Go Café

IMG_20180210_103735.jpg

Come sit with me at the café. The rains have started in Malaysia, its wet and gloomy outside my window, this sets the perfect mood for me. I have a strong aromatic Americano by my side. Come sit with me for a while. I need you to inspire me today.

I had no clue where to begin this week. What to say or write, don’t you have days and weeks like that too? When you have much to write but it gets all confused and doesn’t come out the way you first imagined it would? I had such a week.

Many things happened this week that slowed my momentum. I frequently suffer from compassion fatigue and it can manifest physically. The burden of grief and sorrow takes a toll and I have to retreat. We had a faculty meeting and a trauma medicine doctor shared how he distances himself from…

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Beatitudes #01

I continue my spiritual journey at My Seven Storeys with a series of short quatrains inspired by The Beatitudes.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” MT 5.3

mysevensstoreys

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” (MT 5.3)

“I am just a poor man,” he said.
“Come into my house, Son, and eat.”
The food was bread and fruit,
Unseasoned, but everything needed.

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The Week in Review 9/8 – Hurricanes

It has been a month since I said this feature would return on a regular basis, perhaps it should be retitled The Month in Review. Alas, eventually, routines will become routine again. August had more important things on the agenda for me, though, and those were important things. So perhaps September will be the month routines become routine. Not counting on it, though, as a Hurricane Florence makes her way across the Atlantic, the Bermuda High Pressure system directing her South towards the Carolinas, but a change in that High or an interaction with the Gulf Stream could send her this way. Let’s hope whatever the weather holds it be merciful on whatever land she greets with her rage.

This week was one that saw a continuance of a few series that have been ongoing at Pointed Home: Haikus, Juvenilia from 1987, and morning poetry either reworked from older poems or new poems. I hope the faithful readers of the poetry here have enjoyed them. The Haikus have drawn the most attention, which makes sense to me, they are short and quick reads. Yet the Juvenilia remains most powerful for me to reconnect with the child poet who began the journey so many years ago now. If you missed any of these poems, either the Haiku or the older poetry, I encourage you to follow the links below to revisit them. I am nearing the end of the 1987 Juvenilia which means an Into My Own, the story of my writing is due soon.

Haiku: https://sailorpoet.com/category/poetry-2/haiku-and-other-short-poems/

Juvenilia: https://sailorpoet.com/category/juvenilia/

I continue to spend time with my longer poems, both revisiting poems previously posted on either Pointed Home or SailorPoet and newer poems in my “ideas” files that needed some attention before sharing. This week saw an old favorite return, The Melodies of Crickets, a love poem that reflects the conflict between heart and mind:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/09/05/the-melodies-of-crickets/

Another poem originally written a few years back that collects some of the conflicts of feeling invisible and not in control of my own life, Counting Cars:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/09/06/counting-cars/

And a new poem that hints at the spiritual awakening of this past year inspired by reconnecting with nature and my understanding of the Divine, or God in the wind whispering in the trees:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/09/07/whisper-my-return/

I hope you can take the time to read these three poems and find your own truth through the words that are now yours to read.

For the many wonderful and loyal readers who have posted comments the past month, I apologize for my failure to interact. I am hoping to catch up tomorrow, but no guarantees as preparations for Florence either for work or for home will take priority. I am grateful for the readers and the thoughtful comments, even if I haven’t responded. Be patient with me.

Have a wonderful week, show up, write, read, share. You are heard.

— Stephen

Two Martyrs, One Son (1987: AGE 16)

Two Martyrs, One Son
January 23, 1987

The Cardinal
his voice echoed across the land
in the ears of seven million people.
They all turned to their neighbor
–Did you hear the Cardinal?
He sang yesterday. You know I heard
him sing: ‘I have a dream today!
Let freedom ring then we might sing
free at last, thank God almighty,
we are free at last!’
Then I heard him cry
‘Oh God, oh Lord.’–
Seven million people cried yesterday.

The Bluebird
his voice echoed across the land
in the ears of seven million people.
They all turned to their neighbor:
–Did you hear the Bluebird?
He sang yesterday. You know I heard
him sing: ‘I had a dream today.
Rise above the evil in your hearts!
We can soar with the glory of love,
if we let our soul power shine!’
And then I heard him say:
‘Oh God, oh Lord!’–
Seven million people cried yesterday.

The Dove
His voice resonates across all lands
in the hearts of seven billion people.
They all turn to their neighbor
–Listen to the Dove!
He sings! Hear His voice:
‘I have a dream for you, children-
love your neighbor as yourself,
love your enemy as you love your God
for we are one, united.’
With all our hearts, listen!–
‘Father into your hands… I am yours.’
Seven billion people hold hands today.

The last in a series of poems I wrote after watching the movie Gandhi, this one most clearly reflects how I connected the teachings of Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. My interest in nonviolent action was born in these poems as well as a life long conflict with the role of violence in human action. While my life has been given in service to my country, these voices of faith, hope, and love remain loud in my head. When I wrote this poem, I knew the voice inside me that I needed to hear; as I shared it with friends, I knew that voice had a place in the world.

See also, The Kingdom:
https://sailorpoet.com/2018/08/30/the-kingdom-1987-age-17/
Mahatma:
https://sailorpoet.com/2018/09/05/mahatma-1987-age-16/
and A Man:

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/

Whisper My Return (with Spoken Word)

Into my cathedral, no path to follow
Just my will. An alter of dirt and moss
Built by no human hand gives me pause.

I do not believe in God.

God, “I don’t believe in you.”

But when you whisper through leaves
Trees rustle back their peaceful thanks,
“How can your existence be denied?”

One thing that will endure, is beauty.
So while you and I may never break bread,
Interwoven inside each step taken on my path

A presence I can no longer deny.

God, I believe, now, believe in me.

Yesterday, I walked up a stream into a womb
It’s walls covered in soft beds of moss
The trees, eternal, whisper my return.

A Man (1987: Age 16)

January 24, 1987

You are a man
You claim no more
The praise, the crowd
Make no larger a man
I wish to be
In the hearts of a nation
In the hearts of a race
In the hearts of a faith
You are a savior
A man could be no more

You have one heart
You share it with all
All for love, no more-
Is there any more?
I wish to be
Will you help me?
I am a boy
That is all
I may ever be.

Another in a series of poems I wrote after watching the movie Gandhi, this on reflects how I was beginning to draw connections between the teachings of Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. My interest in nonviolent action was born in these poems as well as a life long conflict of the role of violence in human action. While my life has been given in service to my country, these voices of faith, hope, and love remain loud in my head.

See also, The Kingdom:
https://sailorpoet.com/2018/08/30/the-kingdom-1987-age-17/
and, Mahatma:
https://sailorpoet.com/2018/09/05/mahatma-1987-age-16/

Over the next few weeks I will be spending time with my 16-17 year old self from 1987. In no particular order, these poems will be presented in the final form I found them on computer discs discovered in an attic many years ago. This will culminate in the next entry of my Into My Own, My Story as a Writer series found here:

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/05/08/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-i-how-it-began/

https://sailorpoet.com/2018/06/14/into-my-own-my-story-as-a-writer-part-ii-why-i-wrote-1986/