the moon and stars cooled your eyes

11TH OF SEPTEMBER

Yes, sir,
This is the wall of the sky come home to roost,
Brought to earth in flame and dust
And the slam of death.

Yes, sir,
This is the empty chair,
The side of the bed never again used,
An unsaid goodbye, the empty casket,
The father, wife, son, mother, daughter, husband
Who left in the morning and never returned home.

Yes, sir,
This is the bright morning that lasted for days,
Weeks, months, years, the bright morning
That shattered hearts and flattened souls.

Yes, sir,
Heavenly blues, earthly blues, sunken blues,
Blues of the air, blues of the wind, river blues, fire blues,
Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow.

Yes, sir,
The key to the secret of releasing grief.
The key to the secret of not drowning in hatred.
Take the key from my hand, and open the door.

Yes, sir, no, sir,
All of this time you have been waiting
To finally let go and just walk off.

james lee jobe

--

"No mud, no lotus."
"Sin barro, no hay lotos."

Thich Nhat Hanh 

--

Link: Nilim Kumar’s poetry collection ‘I’m Your Poet’ strains beyond normative habits of the mind

ALONE

Perhaps you had been alone in a desert for a very long time.
Days blurred into weeks, and weeks into years. Decades
Grew like tall saguaro cactus; they were your only shade
From the blinding sun of time. Your life was endless sand.
And perhaps you had walked at night, and during the day
You hid yourself away. The moon and stars cooled your eyes
With a light like ice, a light like sweet dreams. The heat
Of the day pulled you into the oven, into the empty void
Of sleep. Eventually you forgot how to dream. You lost
All desire. Perhaps you moved through life this way, silent
And alone. Your truth was never spoken, and you harmed
No one, and no one harmed you. Yet you were empty.
Perhaps you never touched another soul. Not really.
Later, the wind blew white sand over your bones,
And it was just as if you had never existed at all.

james lee jobe

--

Link: Via Negativa Daily Digest (poetry daily)

    --

"Peace has never come from dropping bombs. Real peace comes from enlightenment and educating people to behave more in a divine manner." 

Carlos Santana

HOW I LIVE

I live by letting the sound of your breath
Become my rations,
By forcing life from the weight of your words.
At night, the darkness is full of your memory,
The light of your grace, the lines on your face.
How can I go on living this way?
That’s a good question.
I don't have an answer; I just do.

james lee jobe

--

Link: [It was deep April, and the morn] a poem by Michael Field

--

"You're only as young as the last time you changed your mind." 

Timothy Leary

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james