For Our Beloved Lost Ones (After the Shooting), With Love

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For our beloved lost ones …

We are in the hallway,
we have our books, our friends,
and every wild certain hope for the future.
We step through the front doors
and into the hallway,
end in sight, giddy for the outcome,
a turned corner, a new day,
for love, for lovers, for learning.
It is our work to be young,
to shoulder what responsibilities we can,
to live in a world with kindness,
to be protected. To be protected.
We have lost so much.
We have lost almost everything.
The hallways, now, lined with our terror,
the classrooms teaching principles
that are not abided by,
so our lives are torn asunder.
It is our right to be young.
We are taught to trust and obey
in something that is now sick and dying.
It is time to to tear these hallways down
and find what serves,
what is worthy of our belief,
to find a radical starting again.
To plumb the depths oceans
and scale the mountain peaks,
to sit in dark, quiet caves and listen,
to learn our truths for the first time in our young lives,
and believe in them above all else,
and build with love
on the ashes of our beloved departed,
grow flowers where they lie,
honour them every hour of every day,
not stop until what is sick is healed,
be the change that will save the world.

– Tammy Takahashi

 

 

 

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Make it So (for Life)

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Make it so,

the way an umbrella shelters

without removing the

experience of rain,

the way the flags flap

in the breeze,

giving away just a little bit

of their colour

with each passing moment,

so that we may pray

through and with them,

and it’s amazing

how long they hang on.

Make it so,

a full, bright, hope-filled

life. Take it all in.

Feel the breath

moving through you.

Know, too, that  the

fading of things

is also a reminder

of the fullest

expression of beauty,

at birth, in life,

and in the passing

of all things.

  • TT

 

 

The Fragile Day of Being

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The stillness of the clouds
On this silver, dewy morning
Betray the truth I try to grasp,
That I won’t always be here,
We won’t always have the chance
To do what has been calling, persistent,
Pulling at our tender,
Yearning unstill hearts.
I fix my eyes on the clouds’ loose edges,
Willing them to change,
to blur into today’s new sky,
Or break away into new formations,
Remembering childhood mornings on the grass
When we’d look up at the tufts of white
And imagine a new, festive cosmos
Of our own making and desires.
This was when
We were going to grow old together,
When there was no thought of not forever.
My body has not turned on me yet,
My mind still arrows in all the directions,
My heart pulses wild with aches and hope.
Life presents itself through and in me
With a vitality I have everything
To be thankful for, and try to honour
With my whole being.
Yet you are not here,
And my understanding will
One day grow dim,
As I continue to dwell in fear
Of everything that will slip away,
Like the fishing boat vanishing downstream,
And the cloud, that, as I look anew,
Might never have existed at all.
 
– TS

Love Never Departed

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Lover of ocean
At home in the sea
Where the light dances
And shimmers like dreams
That wake up the world
 
Your iridescent beauty
Like the sun glinting on waters,
Unites us in radiant oneness
Lifts us with sparkling heart
Loves with a boundless love
 
In grace you glide
Across our crystalline earth
To the depths of the waters,
And with your gift, the spirit of love,
To the very heart of the vast blue sky. – TS

Look at Her

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There is always
somewhere to land.
Look at the red leaf,
effusing life even
fallen from the tree,
marking the passage
of the seasons
in a siren call of
lush vibrant red.
She doesn’t ask for a
better, softer ground.
She doesn’t wonder
why she is not in
the forest that is her
essence and birthright.
Look how stately,
how firm, as last life
ebbs from her veins,
how she becomes
the ground herself,
for another, smaller,
leaf which has flailed,
lighter, more fragile,
in the wind, despite
how green she is,
a story cut
from its source,
a babe far from
her mother’s milk.
May we always
cushion each other
and help provide
precious ground. – TS

We Continue On

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On the other side
of a long
fearful night
there are people
holding hands
and circling the sun,
paying homage
to the passage
of Time,
Resting in the
wonder-filled
ever-now,
where colour
transfixes in
its fading,
and the earth
is supple and
pure to touch
as it greets
the fallen,
the wounded,
and all who
continue on. – TS

A Poem About Music and Life

 

tree revolution

Hello!

I’ve just had this poem published on The Plum Tree Tavern – I hope you enjoy!

We Came Back
by Tammy T. Stone

A prior world of raucous sounds we
Made, riots of clanging bells but also

Hushed caress.  Where each tenderness
Melted like snow a river gone by, anger

Whipped loud, and everything that could,
Happened.  But it still wasn’t enough, so

Here we are, marking our cold re-entry in
Soundless, everlasting space, coursing

Through the warring bits, all of it a kind
Of alchemy we’re not here to understand.

We’re here to listen, though we don’t.
It can only start from here, the beating

Heart. The rhythm of palpation, how we
Wandered for years to get here.  Times

I rest in that pause, shivering, bone dry,
Waiting for an outstretched hand. This is

How I learned music can be touched. The
Sweet sounds that have made us and the

Ache of memories trailing through Time.
We are ruffled and ravaged. The world as

Sonorous Remembrance, reverberating in a
Thousand ways a feared, desired emptiness.

I try as hard as I can to listen to each note,
Devastating, beautiful, inchoate and true.