Storm Ritual

author’s note:

“Splish splash!”
           –- Bobby Darin


STORM RITUAL

Why didn't I run
from those stallions of storm clouds
rushing toward me
over the grassland of the valley?

Obviously I felt compelled
to wake my sleepy head
but maybe I was also held
by this secret wish:

to stand naked
and let the god of lightning
blast apart the stubborn fist
that binds my heart—
a block resistant to my persistent pleas
for freedom.

And maybe I opened my arms
to the cold merciless rain
because my dreams keep telling me:
wash yourself clean.

Whatever the deeper reasons may be
I can say for certain
the silly child I still am
found joy in the splashing dance

and as sunlight followed storm
I instantly instinctively felt hope—
for a moment, quiet ecstasy freed my heart
as the rainbow arc
joined one mountain to the other mountain
across the valley.

Finally, a ritual has elicited
the heightened sense of reality I seek.
But I must find a safer way
to reconnect with my truth.

If I don’t
deep need may drive me
to again stand and say
come on
next time I see stallions of storm clouds
rushing to wash me down.

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Ghosts in the Trees

author’s note:

I want to go to Thailand…

...if only for the ghosts.


GHOSTS IN THE TREES

I’ve read:
in Thailand
ghosts live up in the trees--

a better place, I believe
than the shadowy basements
where we try to stuff our ghosts.

Ghosts actually want
to sunbathe and talk!--
when ignored they emerge
to wreck havoc
in our lives, in our world.

I speak from experience:

in fear, I tried to hide my ghosts
from myself.
But my wraiths retaliated.
Working unseen
they kept trying to wreck me.
Finally I became more afraid
of what they might do
if I didn’t let them live
in the branches and sun.

Now, as I walk in dappled shadows
around the tree
I listen and learn from ghost stories.
I still fear the powerful grief
but bolster my strength by repeating
what Coach always told the team:
no pain, no gain.

Over time, many of my shades have faded
in sunlight
but I know they’ll never disappear completely:
my history will always be my history
just as our history
will always be with us
even when stuffed in the basement.

If we don’t let those ghosts live
up in the trees
we’ll still feel their pain
while losing the opportunity
for a higher education.

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Spirits of the Earth & Sky

author's note:

“Is that a light in the sky or just a spark in my heart?”
                -- Graham Parker


SPIRITS OF THE EARTH & SKY

Today I carefully studied
a video clip of a silver light
zigging
       and zagging
and zinging
through the night sky.

I felt eerily amazed
but also confused--

what could be the purpose
of such erratic movement?

But I refused to ponder too long
and again turned my eyes down
to try to understand an erratic human
who often seems alien—though he is me.

You said you once watched
a cluster of stargazers chanting
“Descend to us, beings of peace!
  Descend to us, beings of peace!"

But the light above
abruptly shut off
as if to say: save your own selves.

I say:
Let’s encounter ourselves
and end our alienation:
when I know myself better
and you know more of you
I will know you and you, me.
Perhaps then
we’ll be able to see a design
in all our zigging and zagging
and zinging.

mythsteps · Spirits of the Earth & Sky

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The Ticket Taker

author's note:

If I was angel, I wouldn't mind working with humans...

But I think I'd need long vacations.


THE TICKET TAKER

One night I dreamt
I was working Gate Eleven
but not as a man but as an angel
because the stadium was now heaven
though still located near the track.

But I didn’t want to let the first man in--
I didn’t like his fanged teeth.

I also rejected the woman behind him--
because of her necklace of skulls.

But then a tall archangel
touched my shoulder and said:
“Since they both have tickets
  you must allow them to enter.”

What--have we no standards?
I protested.

The higher one answered:
“Look into their faces--
  can you see the pain?
  That pain is the cost
  of living on Earth.
  Having paid in that way
  they’ve earned heaven’s bliss

“but only a small amount--
  soon they must return to life on Earth
  along with the rest of the crowd.”

Isn’t anyone ever allowed to stay?
I asked in bewilderment.

“Okay, here’s the process,"
  the patient master replied:

“Next time these beings awaken on Earth
  their minds will again switch
  to survival mode--
  blotting out the memory of heaven
  just as before.
  However
  the humans will sense the loss--
  feel the pain of loss--
  and as a result
  engage in various worldly pursuits
  in an effort to regain
  the feeling of bliss.

“But though they may create
  fine pleasure for themselves
  and experience the satisfaction
  of grand accomplishment
  their striving will not bring back
  the heaven they’ve lost.

“But through the frustration of their search
  they will learn and grow
  and so, eventually learn
  what they truly desire
  and then they will vow
  to work to grow
  until they reach real heaven.”

At that point, I awoke
wondering if my dream
actually proved anything
about an afterlife.
But whatever the case may be
that dream helped me
because afterward
I did my job with new eyes:

I saw the pain
of that snide man with canine teeth.
I saw the pain
of that woman devouring her own life.
And by seeing their pain, I felt
the pain of my own mistakes.
But comforted myself with this thought:
Yes, I might still be a long way
from permanent heaven
but at least now I know
what I truly desire.

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