Every Sky

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Moments like this, when the rain falls
Without a sound, and turns to ice
Without notice, moments like this,
We know: everything we are trying
To understand falls in that place
Where joy and sorrow both come
For sweet harbor, and fall into
Each other’s arms, and share stories,
And love each other whole without
Trying to take a single thing away.
We understand that sadness thunders
Down like unrelenting rain that will
Flood and drown before it nourishes
And heals, and that if you look up
High enough, the rain is coming
From a place of no rain, that the sky
Is every sky, sincere, blue, grey, true.
– Tammy Takahashi
– Tammy Takahashi
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I May Never …

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It may never be enough,
what I am able to tell myself
about the beauty and purity
in this world.
I may never come to know
the ancient and eternal wisdom
of a sacred tree
in trust of the ground that holds it
and the sky that receives
its every last fluttering wing.
I may never know the grace
of a sun that sets
without fear it won’t rise again,
of a river that has never doubted
its path or destination.
But I will stay.
I will sit among the splendor,
and watch its holy manner,
and I will rest in awe,
of what my heart
may one day understand.

– Tammy Takahashi

Petals Fallen in Spring

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Petals fall lush to ground,
not yet dried or decayed,
unsullied by wind, sun, rain,
handfuls of spring snow
tethered still to this life,
where we train our eyes
on what comes before
the last, the spectre of this
dancing alongside our joy.
Beauty gathers everywhere
before we have a chance
to discriminate and fear,
pierces though every want
we might begin to have
for things to be different.
Imbibe before pleasure
divides into pain.
It is here in this space
that miracles are born,
that the ways of seeing,
ways of our sacred being,
outnumber anything
we could possibly know.

For a Short Time

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For a few days,
the cherry blossom trees
come alive in bloom,
decorating the world like snow,
as if in joyous collaboration
with the winter just passed,
as if to remind us of the continuity
embedded in all this change.
For a few days,
the senses are heightened,
the sky has opened
to give space for all that grows,
and the moon grows large and quiet,
illuminating the beauty
that wants to be seen,
touched, most of all, felt.
For a few days,
the gates to our perception fly open,
maybe slowly, if we are afraid,
and we can start with one blossom,
her fragile pink petals
delicately announcing herself,
giving everything she has
before falling to soft sweet earth.

– tammy takahashi

Spring, Our Beautiful Perfection

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On a diffuse grey morning,
late winter surveys the barren landscapes
of hardened essence and wisdom in retreat,
holding on, but loosening its arthritic grip,
allowing soft rain to gather, fall, in snow’s stead.
The buds have not sprouted,
but the plum blossoms, which thrive
in the dance between cold and warm,
herald the wonderland of life to come,
like a promise, like a dream,
like nothing other than the beauty of what it is.
What will the spring bring?
Will we emulate nature and come forth,
with no hesitation at all,
on the side of creation?
Will we be soft on our struggles,
tender with our pain,
and grow into our full and vibrant potential?
Will we reclaim the intuitions
buried golden and deep for millennia,
long submerged by our own wintry confusions,
and play with what nourishes us?
Will we laugh, touch the earth,
look each other deep in the eye?
Will we celebrate the new season
and the new beginnings it offers,
in the way of the quiet lands around us,
that call for silence, which is reverence,
and a stilling of our heart’s great stirrings,
as the perfection of life once again emerges?
Will we heed of the extraordinary peace
and cooperation it takes to rebuild the world?
 
– tt