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

 

 

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For Las Vegas (a poem)

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A life defined by loss,
whose very parameters
involve a known closing,
does not make it feel
any softer, or less shocking,
does not make death
smooth and silky on the skin;
the knowledge that
we are here, on this plane,
for such a short duration
comes as a surprise,
every time, and the sadness in this,
in the dawning of a realization
of our own mortality,
it’s a sorrow of deep wells
and hard, splashing tears,
because we are never ready.
Here, maybe, we can begin:
how will we choose to be
on this short journey
between moons, from
one to the next, how will
we will fill the days between
sun’s gracious ascent and her
regal return to the other side
of the world?
Will we allow ourselves
to be horrified to the core
when the sanctity of life
is violated?
Will we do everything we can
to storm against the unruly,
the unjust, and the terribly
violent, and work for truth
of our equality, for our equal
right to live freely, out of harm’s
way? Is there anything else?

– TT

Don’t Say My Name

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Don’t say my name,
see what else falls away,
which words drop off
the tongue in light
of this new consideration?
 
I think of the moon,
and the image changes,
the word alone
conjuring faraway
tapestries of night,
 
also forbidding, in their
very distance from
here. Why not place
faith, instead, in their
colourful inevitability,
 
should we do the work,
here and now, of filling
ourselves with the kind
of light that fills the
contours of tomorrow?
 
Why not remove the
name, the idea, as the
serpent sheds her skin,
the very sheath that
gave her a body, her
 
movement, knowing there
is more to come, knowing
that the movement itself,
which is life and love,
will take us there?
 
– TT

Let Us Go There

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It is here
 
It has come.
 
What will you choose to do?
 
What will you choose to see?
 
There is the darkness, encroaching,
closing in, framing a day, a life,
these, our times.
 
It appears to come from above and below,
those two hollowed out spaces echoing to us
as whole, textured, rich invitations
from the other realms, the ones that
root our fragile bodies to the ground
and connect us to the beyond we
try, and fail, and try again to conceive.
We gravitate, don’t we, to those darkest spaces,
those parts that don’t connect us at all,
with lush, morbid fascination; how easy it is
to find the places in us that reflect
this absence of light, and go there.
 
There is, too, in the center of the frame,
a golden sun, not asking or beckoning
any more than through its own power of presence,
inviting us in this way to find our own,
to consider the sun’s quiet, fierce power
to enable the course of all things
without direction, aggression or force,
how the light accounts for everything,
costing nothing at all, how it does not
suck us into a vortex but encourages our
momentum, drive and energy to be
who and what we are and will be.
 
Where will you choose to go?
Let us move with the light, which has not yet
failed to plant in us the very fruit of
our best, most capable actions.
 
Let us have our way toward peace shone upon,
so that it doesn’t succumb to the dark,
so that we see what we need to see
to take us all there, where
light builds upon light,
our way forward.
 
– TT

In the Land of Sweet Honey

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In the land of sweet honey
that flows like endless water
that nourishes the flowers
that feed our wild things
that hum and buzz the
world alive
 
Every year, a new year,
every day, a new sun.
every moment,
life follows death,
 
death, which for
all our efforts,
we cannot fathom,
 
life, the foundation for
and the trajectory of
our awareness.
 
One follows the other
at every turn, and we
can glide, as though
on a magic carpet
through the
alchemy of our
 
transformations
turnings
cycles
 
And when we are tired,
we can come to rest
on this, our land,
and expand this
piece of Time
to encompass
all that is.
 
The reflections in
one grain of sand,
even.
 
We will find
one another
there.
 
– TT

Come Sit With Me

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Come
Sit with me
I want to say,
It’s been such a long time.
 
Maybe this place is unfamiliar to you,
I know – I am also, still, not so sure of it,
or even how I came to be here.
 
I’m not sure which of my histories
had to emerge, defiant and victorious,
from the rest, for today to take
the shape it has, or why,
 
Or how to contend with
my other stories, so stubborn and sure
(so much more certain than I am),
each cropping up, in turn,
to ask something of me.
 
Maybe it’s like that for you, too,
where you are?
I would like to meet you there
and hear your stories.
 
I would like for the act
of our communion, though,
to be our beginning,
to form the core of our existence,
both yours and mine,
 
and for the stories
to enlighten us without taking over.
 
Let us sit together,
and not scramble for meaning,
or dismiss the struggle either.
 
Let us take all of it,
hold it in the space between us,
and breathe and love and be,
you and me,
 
And start
the only place we can,
here, now, free.
 
– TT

The Glimmer is You

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We know that the dark helps us
to see light, and we know this is
a scientific fact and this is also
a figurative way of thinking.
What’s evil casts a light on the good,
What scares us teaches us about
what gives us comfort, hope, joy.
Have you ever noticed that
objects in silhouette, as dark
as dark can be (because of the light),
never look quite as dark as the blackness
of a tunnel, or of a deep, starless night
(or a day lost to despair)?
A thing at its darkest, surrounded
and inflected by the great and powerful sun,
retains the brightness that
has given it life, does not invite
the void, never-ending, never-sweet.
We fall into darkness (the way
we fall in love); a silhouette is
sculpted in relief, its contours
made of light; there is no falling,
only emergence. The silhouettes
of autumn, the most moving of all:
not hesitant, but lingering,
The glimmer is the dying of a day
still living,
The glimmer is soft and yearning,
The glimmer is you.

-TT