Her Love’s Worth

The lover’s eye is a compass

that leads back to the heart.

North South East and West,

in every direction, the arrow

spins. Your heart is everywhere—

in the trees, in the sky, in the earth,

in the sea, in her eyes

the arrow spins. Your heart is everywhere.

The lover is on the doorstep, waiting

for you to answer the door, for she has

lost the key in her travels from distant countries.

Open the door, welcome her with open arms

and open eyes. Her eye is a compass

that leads to your heart.

Be silent and still and watch the arrow spin,

feel the heart expand and take on everything

that is precious, that is true, that is worthy

of your love, and let her love’s worth

define you.

Fires in the North

The air is filled with smoke from the fires in the north.

To walk outside is to barely breathe.

I weep on a bench beneath a maple tree

for mother Earth, and for humanity.

Still, I hear the sound of bird songs,

and a steady wind blows out of the west.

Slowly, the sky begins to clear, and sunlight

illuminates the patch of grass and the trees, 

though a haze still dominates the horizons.

What the earth needs is for the sky to weep.

What the sky needs is a respite from our industry.

Meanwhile, the forests in the north

continue to burn. They will burn until fate takes

mercy. We started the fire—we cannot put it out.

What humanity needs is a respite from its industry.

The earth and sky are screaming for mercy.

Between them, humanity is being crushed.

To walk outside is to barely breathe.

Lord, have mercy on us. May our healing

be the healing of the earth and sky.

May my weeping not be in vain.

May the world be cleansed, as are my eyes.

 

She Loves Another

The moon is full, and the night

once again slips through my fingers.

You will hear me howling at the moon,

but not because I long for the moon,

but because somewhere, she is bathed

in its light, and I long to be the moonbeams

that caress her. This heart, that is cold 

like the moon, orbits her, as the moon

orbits the Earth, and rises above the horizon

just to see her, and sinks below the horizon

to weep, for she is another’s, proudly another’s,

and my heart aches to be near her—it pounds

at the door of my chest, wanting entry into a world

filled with love, pounds so hard that tears flow

from the ache of it. The moon is full, and the night

slips through my fingers. You can hear me howl,

but not for the moon. She slips through my fingers,

and my heart knocks at the door of my chest,

demanding love, and the tears flow like a river.

Such terrible longing. She howls, but cannot

hear me howl. She loves another, proudly

another.