There’s a stillness to morning
just before the sky turns slowly silver,
before the reds become gold
that calls out,
kindly asking for attention,
it’s voice gentle and cool,
commanding and humble.
It keeps me from returning to sleep
with promises of discovery,
the smell of ancient spices on its breath
stirring the heart of the explorer within me.
I am moved, literally, to boots and hat and boat,
allowing my eyes and ears to be filled
with peaceful resolve
and my heart with itself-
the part that hears its own voice again
alone on the water.

DGS

I’ll do what I can, I say-

and the little voice in my head

seemingly large and robust, not little at all,

screams that it’s too much,

that it takes too long,

that it will hurt,

that it is selfish

and, finally, that it will leave me vulnerable and near death.

It makes no sense to do anything anymore for anyone.

But I noticed the voice.

Maybe next time I can name it.

D GS

I’ve been in a place where I’m overwhelmed by injustice

and reminded of non-attachment all in the same instance.

It’s that place where deep abiding love

and concern and the desire to protect

comes smacking into conflict with personal spiritual values

of nonviolence and compassion and noninterference.

So what to do?

I waited.

I breathed deliberately and slowly.

I let go of something heavy and familiar,

let it’s generational legacy slip from calloused hands

and then sank  easily back into reality, looking up at the sky and the sun,

feeling it on my face.

And I knew then, again- it’s always again, isn’t it?-

that I can be wrong and it’s just a meaningless judgment

worthy of laughter and delight in the love of the one

I never have to understand to love.

D GS