The Sun, Which …

the sun

which never

stops giving

without asking

why …

Gazing the Shadow

sometimes we wonder

about the shadows

 

the carelessness and

the whimsy of their reign

 

the way they cast a pall

of darkness yet move

 

so freely, appearing to dance

as they vibrate free of gravity’s

 

constraints, hardly tethered,

at all, to the plodding weight

 

of us, who birth the shadow long.

sometimes i want to free myself

 

of me, to freeze spacetime and

shed my contours, flatten and expand

 

as i lie down, right on top of my

shadow, no longer burdened with

 

the pulses and streams and biology

that catch in the light just so, and be

 

naked, and be with all that brilliant

sun without getting seared, and be

 

with the darkness without the fear,

and soak it up for holy reckoning

 

our shadows don’t need a chance

to play, but they do. may we dance

 

with our shadows, learn from their

lightness just how free we can be

 

when we enter the darkness

and truly learn how to see. – TS

The Tree on the Hill

if i could hold you

the way that tree does

on the perfect round hill

that seems always to

be in sunshine

its roots bare above

ground, oh, her arms,

offering themselves

in support, and there is

no effort in her generosity

and her generosity

is utterly boundless.

the tears i have shed

under the awning of her

the soothing she has given

she is hundreds of years old

I wonder who else has

breathed and heaved with her

in this country filled with

gods for her

now, hidden by the road

she is a miracle and discovery

witness to one civilization upon next

but she is the castle in the sky,

she will love, and persist. – TS

The Unity of Seeing and Hearing

i can’t always see it,

the array, the splendor,

for the thoughts that

wrap me in a bubble

of my own making,

for the worries that

know well how to make

clouds of a clear world.

 

i can’t always hear it

the melodious song

for the sound of my

own voice casting

sure things into doubt,

for the loud clap of

negativity i have not

learned to keep at bay.

 

but it is here.

it is always here around

me, and inside me,

a wrapping of sweet,

sweet senses

and i am here with

all of this, with the

pure notion of unity. – TS

The Wind Knows

the wind knows it
without pausing for
a million years,
a hollow shell of
itself, in search of it.
where does the wind
come from?
it always seems to
have somewhere
to go. it seems to
encompass the
very best parts
of direction.
i often long to be
submerged in the
ocean’s depths,
surrounded by all
that subterranean life,
defying gravity
with an ephemeral grace.
but it is the wind
that tugs at the
heart of me
as it rustles up
what has been
long asleep,
imbuing me with
the magic of
the free, and
making promises
i know it can keep.
I will dance in the
wind and let it
carry me home. – TS

The Language of Love

As A Child Would

if we can dress our
wounds with love,
and not understanding
what that means,
adopting the curiosity
of a child, unafraid,
ready to explore
their edges and borders,
ready to slide in
to find their story
of origination,
ready to embody
the whole being
of which the
wounds are a small
part … watching
them grow smaller
in our spirit of
implicit acceptance
and exuberant play. – TS