A poem for hope on a very important day in history.

DSCF3401

Today is a new day.
There is a little less here today
than there was before,
and there is also a little more.
Everyday, the moon
grows to perfect expansion,
or contracts until we are
in our night of darkness.
Everyday, we reflect
on what no longer serves us,
and build the courage
to invite more of what we need:
for our growth,
for the betterment of a world
that doesn’t need us,
and needs us fully,
and welcomes us so dearly.
Everyday, as dawn breaks,
and we peel the glorious
wreckage of night from our skin,
and shake loose from the dreams
of shattered yesterdays
and broken tomorrows,
we take a moment too look
for what as arrived, again,
just the same, and a little different,
anticipating our full participation
that can alter it all,
the course of our future,
in one small instant.
Today is the day to begin.
One decision, and liberation is ours.
One breath in the name of love,
and love is forever ours.

– Tammy Takahashi

Advertisements

The World is Listening.

wps2

Even when I’m not speaking,
the world listens.
When I try to speak
and the words reverberate
off sun-scorched, jagged peaks,
and sail down to dried up rivers below,
and bounce in the emptiness
of my head that knows
no longer,
the world is listening.
There is no quality of
judgement, the ears,
soft and receptive.
We are finding fault in others,
and deep, deep within,
a gash of torn hopes.
But the world is listening
through our sad cries
and all our lashing out,
and more,
the world is loving,
and has never stopped
loving us.

What Remains of Us.

dscf5261

Looking ahead
to where the field
is a freeze-frame
after the fire,
the sun persists
in the golden season
of the dried and crackling.
For now, I don’t
see past the
browned pastures
and the desert
I imagine
that lies beyond
for its lack of
what lives and
lives on.
But in my dreams,
where colours always matter,
the sun is rounding
the bend, gleaming amber,
being where it’s
always been,
for what of us
remains. – TS