“There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple ‘I must,’ then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse.”
-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet
Note: A sunny day after days of rain. I’m trying to build my stamina.
It’s winter cold. Freezing.
Her hair are like icicles.
I wear a hat.
When the sun comes out
I take out my hat
Her hair melts as if
She just had a shower.
I like summer
We become real persons.
We bloom like acacia trees
We are all sneezing
Even our dogs
Are afraid of us.
Of course in autumn
We shave our heads
Smooth like diamonds.
Wealth is a matter of perspective
Is a contention of our debate.
We read Goethe’s Faust
And practice the declamation of Mephistopheles
That’s our four seasons
Not unlike Vivaldi’s
Which we learn during our Art and Music class.
So we begin our poetry class.
Guess what we are learning?
“We look not at the things which are what you would called seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporal.But the things that are not seen are eternal.”
– Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle In Time.
on the window sill
crawling with ants.
The boy drops
a white bowl
a thousand places.
surveys flooded field
with folded arms.
All the definitions are written.
Most of the questions are answered.
We can engage in games with abandon.
Find the vocabulary for vulnerabilities,
The intersections of passion and doubt
Jazz players deep in improvisations.
Good appetite surrounds pillars of well-being
Taste compliments strength
Like when a house leans where the wind blows.
Experts say music can shape lives
Research says exercise affects the heart’s cells
And make them younger.
When shall we start moral reflection
With purpose and effort?
How shall we face the inevitable
When we can’t breath together anymore?
How do we cry
When suffering is unbearable?
Always a change in climate for discussion,
Abundant snow and excessive rain,
Storms and violent winds
Nature is not the easiest to understand
The divine has a way to confound
Even when meditation focuses on awareness.
I’m progressing well in my recovery. It will be six weeks next week. I’m walking towards the river again but in shorter distances. I’ll be doing cardiac rehab.
Poetry is still slow in coming.
Creativity is unpredictable
unlike the hours of the tides
or like a warrior looking for a battle
decides to become a farmer
and grows the sweetest papaya in the land.
Or it could be a driftwood
that landed on the beach
can be carved as a piece of art.
Creativity is not to dream
of a white deer with crystal antlers
but to find if crystals and antlers
have something in common.
Tomorrow is Thursday
where will you be?
We can start a collaboration.
May love fills your heart and the world.
You are alone but with strong spirit
The world is bitter and suffering
You understand and offer to help.
With a tiny voice you do not feel helpless
You start to talk and write
The pages shout a new life.