I Want This to Be My Best Year

A poem for NaPoWriMo, written today.

 

I Want This to Be My Best Year

This afternoon I decided
I want this to be
my best year ever

Don’t ask if I mean 2013
or starting now, in April
when the spring leaves are still
small green origami

I want this to be my best year ever
come what may, and go what may,
because we all know loss arrives daily
as a purple sunset, broken glass, stillness

Maybe it’s the sky today, endless and blue
that makes me feel safe and confident
or that pair of pale doves
perched above me, basking as I am,
or the small tickle of sound in the brush

In this vast gentleness, I can’t help but say,
may this be my best year ever,
one that flows directly through my heart,
one in which I notice every possible thing,
a year of birdsong and faces,
music and water,
of angels, saints, and touch

 

 

Trees in Spring

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A poem a day for April

Hail Mary

Born and raised Catholic, I learned the traditional Hail Mary prayer as a child, and it remains rooted in the heart of my memory. Although I’ve traveled through other religious neighborhoods, I still return to the prayers of my childhood. What follows is my own version of the Hail Mary. It’s my poem and prayer dedicated to the Blessed Mother. 

 

Hail Mary

Hail Mary, Holy Mary,
Beautiful Mother of God,
Be with me now and always
that I may live in your mercy and grace.

 

Why do I pray to Mother Mary? It makes me feel better. And she answers.

 

Mary and Jesus

William-Adolphe Bouguereau

 

 

 

 

Union

A funny thing happened on the way to samadhi… today’s NaPoWriMo.


Union

sitting crossed-legged to meditate
I had no intention of reaching
anything sublime,
but only of counting my breath
till the timer went off

then without warning
the sun beamed through me
and I was pixelated
just like on star trek

dissolved into grains
suspended in air
in the shape of me

no longer solid
but still fully there
I was filled with light and space

I was me without the heavy
pulsing veins of struggle
I was me with a hole where every
heavy thing inside me,
including the kitchen sink,
had vanished

space and light moved freely
through me, with me
as if it were divinity
and I were just my soul

 

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A poem a day for April

Contentment II

The starting point for today’s NaPoWriMo poem was actually a moment of dis-content. When I caught myself, I reached in my mind for the poem I posted the other day, Contentment, and just started rewriting it based on my present moment. The process totally transformed my mindset. Feel free to borrow the title and first line and write you own present moment.

 

Contentment II

what more could I want?
a sunny room to lie in
a fish tank bubbling

prayer beads in my hand
a God to whom I can pray
just by being still

 

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A poem a day for April

Clutter Bunnies

Today’s  NaPoWriMo poem sprouted from the pile of papers next to my computer begging for my attention. Instead of tending to the pile, I chose to write about it instead.

 

Clutter Bunnies

A pile of paper becomes a tower,
tips,
and a new pile is born.

Clutter bunnies like this are giving
birth
all over my house.

Other bunny varieties include
yarn,
pens, cables, and sea glass.

Clutter bunnies do not hide, but
lounge,
and breed en plein air.

All I can do is find them
shelter,
one at a time, chanting as I go:

Zen
is every thing in its
place
and everything else in the
garbage.

 

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A poem a day for April

Contentment

 

Today’s NaPoWriMo poem was inspired by today’s Zen Habits post on finding Contentment. This poem, comprised of two haiku, was written in situ. Enjoy.

 

contentment petal

 

Contentment

What more could I want?
The sun shines through a pink tree.
A cardinal sings.

The sky breathes on me.
A petal lands on my arm.
I do not move it.

 

 

 

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A poem a day for April

My Mother’s Face Is Beautiful

I spent the day today with my mom. Here’s my poem for NaPoWriMo.

 

My Mother’s Face Is Beautiful

It’s always been that way.
Years of love have softened her gaze,
have created an ease
and an aura
that welcome me,
no matter what the weather.

My mother’s face is beautiful.
And always will be so.

 

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A poem a day for April