Poetry

“Soul”

/ Brian / 1 Comment

My soul is broken until all souls can be bound together,
Yet each soul can remain a separate and unique manifestation.
My soul breaks when I see another broken soul.
Did I say another?
My soul breaks when I see soul, broken.
My soul will continue to break until there are no broken souls.

My soul breaks for the loneliness of the human condition,
The sense of separation we all feel from each other,
And from the truth of ourselves.

My soul breaks for and is mended during the journey we must all undergo
From separation to connection,
From apartness to closeness,
From painful loneliness to the unburdened aloneness
That we feel when we connect to and accept ourselves in our entirety,
Realizing the wholeness within that has been there all along.
My soul is not mended yet.

My soul yearns to be broken and shattered,
It yearns to be overtaken and sink under,
It yearns for years of suffering.

My soul yearns to be unbroken and whole,
It yearns to be given over and rise above,
It yearns for years of joy.

It is a soul full of desire.
It desires also not to desire,
How can the soul not desire that?

Will the soul be broken until it no longer desires to be unbroken?
Will the soul be broken until it is no longer?
Does the soul remain after it is no longer broken?
Was the soul ever unbroken?
Is the true nature of the soul unbroken and whole?

Questions, questions:
The soul is curious about itself,
It is a mystery to itself,
It is restless until it rests in itself,
It seeks until it finds itself at rest.

Will the soul ever be at rest?
Is the nature of the soul restless?
Or is the nature of the soul at rest,
And it is only restless until it finds itself?
How can the soul find itself?

Questions, questions:
The soul is curious and restless and the soul is broken.
The soul breaks when it feels the spirit of another broken soul,
The soul breaks down in weeping and fills up with joy,
The soul breaks, it yearns to be broken and to be unbroken.
The soul will continue to break until there are no broken souls.

“Often it’s best to be silent”

/ Brian / 6 Comments

Often it’s best to be silent
When all around you are speaking,
To be like a captain out at sea
In the midst of storm:
Calm but deeply focused.

People may say:
Don’t be passive,
Speak your mind,
Come out from your shell.

These people misunderstand
Your stillness for passivity,
Your silence for fear,
Your depth for a protective shell.

They may ask:
What are you thinking?
What are you feeling?
Why don’t you share?
Why don’t you join in?
Are you shy?
Are you upset?

Let these questions come and go,
These people do not understand you.

They want to draw you out onto the surface
You need to be drawn back down into the depths.
They want you to be light and cheerful,
You need to be true to how you are truly feeling.
They want you to be who they want you to be,
You need to be who you are.

They do not understand
That underneath your calm surface intense storms rage,
That saying nothing does not mean you have nothing to say,
That spoken words and surface forms mean little or nothing to you,
That you would prefer to spend your days with the silent desert,
Your nights with the wordlessly powerful sea,
Hours of darkness passing in you like winds through a tree.

You are the captain of your own ship.
Why should you let anyone else captain your ship?

In the midst of storm,
You remain calm but deeply focused.

In the midst of fire,
You remain cool but not cold.
You let your emotions run their course
In the complex inner rivers of your heart and mind.

In the midst of the earthquake,
You remain steadfast and unshaken.

In the midst of the hurricane,
You remain the eye that observes
Without being disconnected from what you observe.
You remain the eye to be connected with the more-than-I.

So when the next person asks:
Why don’t you talk more?
When the next person says:
Don’t be so passive,
Speak your mind;
When the next person tries to draw you out onto the surface,
Tries to pull you up like a prize fish from the deep, still water…

Read them this poem.

“Insanity in the air”

/ Brian / 3 Comments

Well, now it’s gotten dark
I got nothin’ to do
I walk wistful through the park
Wishing I could stop thinking of you

I stop in a teashop and find an empty chair
I look around and observe the scene
I try to absorb the tension in the air
Feels like not a soul in the place is at peace

Some people are on computers
And the rest are on phones
A few people sit by themselves
But no one lets themselves be alone

The lone man is suspect
The lone woman rare
I can’t help but detect
Insanity in the air

Abstract paintings on the inside walls
A real life hobo sleeping out on the curb
That cute cashier could be my downfall
I’d get up and talk to her if I had the nerve

All I wanted was to see it through
Now all I want is to be left alone
All you wanted was for me to be with you
Now all you want is to be well-known

The hobo sings a mournful dirge
The woman next to me gives a mighty sigh
I think how we three will never merge
And how difficult it is to be unified

The hobo is suspect
And brought to despair
Does it pain you to detect
The insanity in the air?

Bright college girls talking about their travels
Something about it all is making me sick
I wonder how quickly I can unravel
I wonder if anything I’ve learned will stick

Wish I had a pair of sweatpants
Seems like they’d be nice to wear
I feel like melancholia
Has got me in a trance
It won’t let me go or stay anywhere

I go outside and stand on the corner
I’m trapped and wrapped up in cyclical thought
I feel like some lonesome wordless foreigner
His only claim to fame a spot-on jump shot

The foreigner is suspect
The native is ensnared
Everywhere I go I detect
Insanity in the air

Thought I had something for a second
Well, I lost it fast
Tomorrow the weather will be sunny, I reckon
While I’ll feel frozen in the heartless past

Thought maybe things would be different
All I know now is that I was wrong
You know I can feel awfully deficient
Wherever I go I’ll never belong

I’m watching people and doubt their actuality
I’m watching myself slowly slip away
I thought I’d get better acquainted with reality
Now I wake up disgusted with the break of day

Everyone is suspect
Especially the solitaire
Tonight it’s clear and so direct
I can almost touch it
The insanity in the air

Gratitude

/ Brian / 6 Comments

For the mid-morning light that streams through the window as I write this,
Making even the cobwebs that span the length of the windowpane beautiful,
As they both reflect and let through the light,
Allowing the spiders to reside with me in this space.

For the chance to sleep in a bed, rising without alarm, when the body feels rested.
For melting snow that falls from cabin roofs
As sun warms January mornings in Arizona.
For the meeting I went to last night,
Men and women talking about falling,
About rising,
About warming up to themselves,
About connecting to the Source of all warmth itself.

There is much to be grateful for this morning.

For the bike I may ride later today,
For the physical strength I feel when riding,
For the time spent climbing up the steep grade,
And the time spent rocketing down.

For the time spent with those in the process of climbing up a steep grade,
For their path of salvation through pain.
For the hard and harsh road, the rocky road, the blocked road.
For all those who feel blocked and stunted,
For the passion and fire hidden in them that will not die,
For those who do not know who they are or why they are,
For those who knew and then forgot
And now are forced to seek to remember.

For memory:
Remembering late-May days spent on Delaware beaches,
Remembering late-December nights spent on black couches with cousins,
Remembering laughter and good food,
Remembering tears and good-byes.

For departures:
For sitting still on a train that is moving on,
For the westbound train that moves to the sea,
For the southbound train that moves to the desert,
For the northbound train that moves to the forests and mountains,
For the eastbound train that moves back to the hometown.

For arrivals:
For the restless excitement felt in a new place,
For the opportunity to uncover new facets of oneself,
For the sense that life is beginning anew.
Gratitude also for the sadness that underlies the excitement,
For the future departure that is attached to each arrival,
For the thoughts and feelings that come
When one stays moving, remains a traveler, an eternal transient,
Just passing through.

“Why I Am Here”

/ Brian / 1 Comment

I am here to better understand why I am here
I am here to come nearer to what cannot be understood
I am here to suffer through three or nine unclear years
I am here to recover the silent knowledge for good

I am here to hear why I am here
I am here to be steered by the voiceless and lost
I am here to wait until a voice becomes clear
I am here to dance ’til the spirit stands aloft

I am coming to say less
Coming to mean more
I’m leaving to remember
What it is I’m living for

I came to marry memory and hope
I left to seek the unexplained
I returned to listen for the unheard note
When I leave,
I’ll lose
All I’ve strived to gain

I am here to better understand how I got here
I am here to stand still, listen to the creek flow by
I am here to let go of an illusion I’ve held dear
I am here to hold on to a truth that is not mine

I am here to see clearly what else is here
I am here to return, to remain, and to move on
I am here to look for home, like a dispossessed seer
I am here to turn towards an ever new dawn

I am coming to say less
Coming to mean more
I’m leaving to remember
What it is I’m living for

I came to listen for silence,
I left to speak softly with rain,
I returned to marry stillness and chaos,
When I leave,
I’ll have lost
All I strived to gain

I am here to better understand why I am here
I am here to give shelter, here to bring storm
I am here to feel the sun as the clouds disappear
I am here as the snow melts, as it loses its form

“Where to Go”

/ Brian / Leave a comment

Not all passion can be seen
Not all love should be known
I can’t tell you what it means
When no one knows where to go

All I want is to want no more
All I can take is distance and lack
No one remembers where they’ve been anymore
No one makes it forward
No one goes back

Take it all far away from me
As I seek on the road what I can’t see at home
Take yourself far away from me
I’d be gone myself if I had anywhere to go

Not all people find their meaning
Not all bodies find the soul
When you tried to heal what needed bleeding
I knew I had to leave
But I had nowhere to go

All you want, you say, is to be who you are
We all want to give what none of us own
We all wish to be what none of us are
Where would you be if you had somewhere to go?

Bring it all back to me now
I’ve been at this too long
I need to relax
If you’d bring yourself back somehow
I could be myself
I could drop the act

Not all movement can be seen
Not all knowledge should be known
No one knows what any of it means
How could anyone know just where to go?

All you want is the whole world
All you can take is nearness and excess
You told me you were sure where I should go
All I had to know were the people to impress

Take yourself far away from me
All you tell me is all you’ve been told
Take it all far away from me
While I take my leave
As if I had somewhere to go

“Emptiness”

/ Brian / 1 Comment

Does nothing satisfy?
I begin the day already frustrated.
My first thought?
Whatever I do today will only leave me empty.
My second?
Nothing I do can give me what I need.
My third?
It is because I need that I stay frustrated.
Finally I ask myself:
What do I need?

I need to do something to relieve this emptiness.
If I do nothing, will this emptiness leave me?

No, whether I do something or nothing,
The emptiness remains.
It remains whether it is hidden or apparent.
Nothing relieves it.
Everything I do either hides it better or makes it clearer,
But nothing takes it away.

I cannot be relieved of it simply by leaving it behind.
What is there to leave behind?
It can’t be left behind because
It’s not even here.
It’s an absence,
One that I feel
More than I feel anyone else’s presence.
It’s a not-here
That makes me feel not-here
And everyone else seem not-there.

Would I need to be someone else to not feel it?
Is who I am formed from what I lack?

If I were not me,
Would I feel less not-here?
If I were not here,
Would I feel more like me?

If I am not even here,
What can my purpose be?
I can do nothing unless I am here,
But nothing I do can take away who I am,
And who I am is not separate from what is not-here.

Who I am is more than what is here,
But what I say means less than what I hear.
I speak of what is not-here,
But I listen for what is here.
I feel an absence,
But I listen for a presence.
What is present here is more than who I am,
It means more than what I feel,
But what can it mean if I can’t hear it?

What do I need?
I need to hear what is here;
I am frustrated when I feel only what is not.
Is there anything here
That can relieve me
Of what is not?
Is there anything not-here
That can help me
Perceive what is?

I begin the day already frustrated,
And I admit that I do not know why.
I also cannot say why
The not-here feeling always seems to linger here.

But here is the not-here.
I feel it now as I do most every day.
The not-here will be here whether I let it or not,
But this once I do not deny it or fight it.
I am here and so is the not-here.
I do nothing.
I can’t think of a single thing I could do
To take away what is not even here.

“On Up The Hill”

/ Brian / Leave a comment

To the tune of Dylan’s “Buckets of Rain”

On up the hill
On down to town
This back and forth deal is getting me down
Down in the middle that I can’t stand
I know I got to get going but I
Got no plan

I can’t speak
So I’ll just write
Was that you I saw submerged in the light?
You came around, then you went away
I knew you would get going
You can’t stay

So I’m alone
The way I like to be
Like to sit here and feel the breeze
But if you came around, I’d unlatch the door
I know I gotta get going
That’s for sure

I’ll get in the car soon
I’ll get on the bike
I’ve gotten so I don’t even know what I like
I knew it much better before I met you
“Got to get going,” you told me
I said: “where to?”

I am where I am
You’re where you are
Maybe you’re too close, you could be too far
I’ve always been less than I could be
If I could get going maybe then
I’d be free

“The Night”

/ Brian / 1 Comment

The absence of people,
often a blessing,
seems more like a hardship
on this clear cold night.

There’s no one here
to distract me from my condition,
to alleviate the tension,
to come between me and the silence,
me and the emptiness,
me and the night.

The night and me:
that’s all I see.
The night and
me, trying to put this night into words,
trying to put myself into words:
to mold beauty out of pain,
inspiration out of frustration,
the distinct out of the same.

There’s no one here to come between me and the night,
but yet there is something between us.
There’s no one here to come between me and the night.
No one, that is,
but me.

There’s no one here
in the night
but me.

“Feel the Sound”

/ Brian / 2 Comments

Was I once found?
Am I now lost?
I’ve heard for too long
of what has been lost.
Now I listen
for what can’t be found.

I do respect the thoughtfully worded phrase,
but how much more
do I respect the heartfully felt sound!

How can I feel this sound and be lost?

Listen for a moment.
See
if you can feel
the sound.
You might hear it more clearly
if you put
your ear
to the ground.

Did I once have?
Have I now lost?

What I have lost is precious to me,
more precious than what I have now.
To have is fine while it lasts,
but to have lost is to begin
re-finding,
redefining where your worth is,
realigning with your purpose.

This is how I redefine your words.
When you say you are close to a breakdown,
I hear ‘breakthrough.’
When you tell me you are in the middle of a crisis,
I hear ‘creative tension.’
When you feel hopeless of ever understanding,
I hear ‘recovering the mystery.’

But you do not need me to redefine your words,
or to remind you of your worth,
do you?

No.
But in case you’d like a reminder,
here:
When you look at me intensely and say nothing,
I hear ‘I am here,’
and I feel your distinct sound;
I let go of all I’ve lost,
and I embrace what can’t be found.