The Hunter’s Gaze

Soaring above me.

Hurtling down airy corridors.

He sees, as in a sped up movie.

 

I stand in the field beneath,

fixed, rooted.

Gravity’s glue.

 

Then to perch, imperial.

A hunter’s gaze,

lacerating the flesh.

 

Who to be,

What to become,

The next move,

Terrible mysteries.

 

As he launches for the climb,

Prelude to the kill,

I take his eyes.

 

The world now beneath me,

So many small, distant things.

 

There below, I see him,

Narrow and alone.

Jealous eyes upward.

Prey to his affliction,

father to son.

Flesh and Bones

Strength feeds strength, as weakness feeds weakness.

Weeks of drifting.  A ghost of myself, neither truly alive nor fully present.

A malaise to match the gray, damp, chill that has hovered over my city.  Shuffling through the grimy streets with my devoted companions- doubt, fear, and evasion.

Even as I got things done, I performed rather than existed.  Not committed.  Not engaged.  Thinking, thinking, thinking.  Busy, busy, busy.

This morning different.  Meditation.  A walk in the woods.  Being present with those I love.  Strength.  The flesh and bones of true being shattering that pale, ghostly shell.

And then the sun came out.  I bathed in its warmth, adored the way it lit up the snow and ice, lost myself in the blue sky.

But those were just extra things.

The light of my true self had already broken through.  All I needed.

The Weight

Sitting on the back porch, feeling the warm sun filtered through the pines.  I am a stroll away from that great source of peace, the ocean.  My precious dog, Sammie, is dozing at my feet.  I know I’m blessed.  And still.

It’s hard to describe.  This feeling that keeps me away.  Like a drug that leaves me numb and stalled and lost.

These past weeks I could not bear to look at the blog.  Thinking of those with whom I felt a connection here, I imagined that they had left me- or worse yet, that they had come by and in my silence I had let them down.  So I just stayed away.

But today, awash in the terrible sadness that I just can’t shake, I decided to stop waiting for the strength to return.  To stop waiting for that moment when I might again write of peace and gratitude.  Just come back in all your shakiness and doubt and then go from there, I thought.

So here I am.