EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT NOW

The river whispers
on both sides:
Victory is won.

(14 August 2006)

AT SUNSET

Sitting on the balcony, this is as quiet
as it’s been for a month, but everything
is uncertain. Looking out at the bay,
there is an unfamiliarity to it, like looking
out a hotel room window. Even the voices
of friends all around you are like strangers.

What was once home
has been changed by yet another war.
This time, though, we probably
don’t feel like we’re on our way to our
promised day of light. If anything,
the night is just beginning…

(14 August 2006)

A CERTAIN POINT OF VIEW

I wonder if the air here
is harder for you to breathe.
Because the hour—according to some—
is getting late. Life was supposed to
have started by now. Why is it
taking so long? Where you are
right now, it’s probably warm by your side,
and you see the sun.

The walls shake, the windows vibrate
before peace comes.

What is our own way
of looking at things, how do we see
our own sort of salvation?

(14 August 2006)

WHAT IT IS LIKE

Every day, in quiet moments
on my own solitary path there is
a new stone to be discovered,
and new moss to be seen
underneath it. Following the trail
close behind the thought
that is leading me—this is the easy part.
Salvaging at the end of the day
what thoughts I can—this is
the greater challenge.

(11 August 2006)

AT THE STATION

I close my eyes, I am let go and carried away
high into the distance, I can see the future.
I see a house on a hill beneath deep blue skies,
things I could have done differently and
things I have done right.
I have done most things right. It all feels real.

With a quick, glaring flash of the sword
I open my eyes. I am back on earth
and it has all already changed.
Tomorrow it will be different, a hut in the village.

I listen for the hidden rivers
in the sacred words I whisper.
Most of the time when I hear them
I follow them home—
today to the house on the hill,
tomorrow to the hut in the village.

(3 August 2006)

THE FIRE AND THE COMING OF WAR

On a quiet evening
I look up and realize
we have missed the full bloom
of the flamboyante trees.

The bay where
the ghost-like ships
normally sit is now
a ghost itself.

It’s much like Yom Kippur,
only grown-ups are not strolling
through the streets
and children are not riding their bikes.

(21 July 2006)