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

I Stay

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heartland
world goes to dusk
verdant landscape blushes
as sun paints the world
one last streak of fire
for this time
 
i stay
as she makes
her serpentine descent
i mourn the world
that will soon be
shrouded in dark
 
i resist
the temptation
to leap toward the horizon
and follow the sun to
all those places
on the other side
 
instead
hands to heart
i fix my gaze on the tree
i slow down my breath
that pulses with twilight fear
and i stay – TS

The Path to Spring

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These are restless, porous days,
when what has been dried out
and hollowed in the living of
our darkened, wintry existence
 
Gives way, as moon to sun, to
the watering of spring, the juicy
filling out of aching joints, the
shadows of heart awaiting light
 
The long ache of cracking through
of stepping out, of tentative steps
to sun-drenched emergence, finding
the will to enter our rightful place
 
Come to the tree, then; she has been
through this hundreds, thousands
of times, has seen cold, barren land
quiver, and then zealously come to life
 
Feel her wholeness, her towering
solidity, and feel also the light, the
upward trajectory, ground to sky
the roots of her ever generating.
 
Wrap your arms around her and
remember, because you always
knew, that when mind surrenders
to heart, the movement is true. – TS

A New Day (For You With Love)

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for the love
of a perfect new day
i write you
a sweet love song
that the birds will
carry over to you,
or the grasses will
roll your way
like tumbleweed
too excited
about the expansivness
of today’s promises
to keep still,
and all the
while it takes
this song to reach you,
the morning is rising
and everything is
changing and moving
all over again,
and still, our
love remains. – TS

Shadow, a Reminder

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Are there words for
feelings that pierce though
space
And land in a place
that is maybe not
quite ready?
The shadow left behind
Recreates shape
Filling itself
Then disappearing with
The sun, our last
Reminder.
Still …
Birds and insects reach out
And the sound ushers the day
Which is soft
With overhanging leaves
Throwing half light
To the ground
Time spent
Gazing.
The water answers our
Call from below
By catching the sun
Moving ever on. – TS

Drifting on a Cloud.

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Drifting on a cloud,

The ground a distant sea

We find in our bottomless

Visions,

Buried wisdoms deep and long

Always waiting to rise

We can’t dive in,

Being as we are,

Drifting on a cloud –

What else to do, then,

But turn our hearts

Away from sandy shores

And the promise of

Trails of crackling leaves,

Thickets of trees,

And stay close

And find clouds resting

Nearby, a cosmic latitude

The width and breath

Of our expansion,

And we are at

The very beginning,

Carried on the seeds

Of our own awakening

The cloud feels like

Snow that won’t fall

A pagoda in the sky

For kneeling and gazing out,

For celebrating celestial bodies

And astral events

Our house, our altar

Our elders and our children

Ground and roof alike

Or better yet,

This is rootlessness,

So we can dream with eyes open

Drifting on the cloud

How hard to fathom

How we will finally descend,

Which of nature’s laws allow

For our safe passage home

But we need a new kind of knowledge now,

That knows not our questions

It’s like we never left at all

It is best, then,

To follow the course

Of the wayward clouds

And just drift

Like a child on a slide

Like a dreamer down river

Tuned to the stars above

And our sweet milky memories below

Letting them rest

So that we may rest

In this perpetual state of flight.361

My Street Japan. Day 16.

My Street Japan. DAY 16. Tammy T. Stone

My Street Japan. DAY 16. Tammy T. Stone

Today, with these gorgeous colours, the fall berries, even the burnt umber backdrop replenishing the scene, it’s all about autumn! Because of this, I’d like to reprint a poem I’ve recently written with this very theme:

Poem to Autumn

Autumn

I am growing old with you

Turning to dry, to dust

I stand in crisp wind

And feel the royal descent

The weakness in my bones

A soft bed of fallen friends

Under my dear, cracked feet

My heart is full of hesitation

My memories have not let go

They congregate around thin veins

Stubborn, steadfast and sad

Autumn

Let me grow old with you

How you breathe into all this

I need to know there is time yet

Before the long stretch sets in

I never quite learned to dance

In sweetest hued rapture

Draw me into your twilight pause

Under a brave, half-dressed tree

Aware of the hardening ground

Exalted before last sounds

xo