Poem: The Mystery; from my book, Jewel of the Lotus

Bones, Feathers, and all... is that how you take us? Is it my weak eyes? A shift in time or flight?

A hawk... I blink and turn to squint against too bright a haze, catch a dark wing, receding, then

climbing the spirals of heat and gone.

Bronze grace, sensuous humor, and where I am naked for months in the brash desert of uncertainty. I take you

for granted, long for you tornado thrower even though doubt consumes me. Rain bringer. Above muddy

narcissism you are clear, an empty cradle, the dark thumb of time. Father creator, mother corn goddess,

avocet, azure, azul, blue night heron.

‍

As with most of my paintings, Meera and Ji, the personas, came to me after I painted them. They seemed to embody my concern for the life of the earth, All life. Our blatent disregard for the planet, for each other. The feeling of helplessness overcomes me at times. But I saw Meera's face and her love of Ji, and I thought this is my heart wish, that all people will find more kindness in their heart, more generosity towards each other, be fearless in speaking against hate and violence, be brave in standing up for the truth and love. After all, we are all a part of the mystery.

Everyday I watch my garden, tiny yellow flowers of the tomatos, the round globe of mellon. The sunflowers wearing a shell cap as it emerges from the soil. The gold finches feed on the large sunflower leaves leaving their lacy patterns to fall on the ground. The juvenile red tails are still hanging around our area and were flying overhead this morning and calling to each other. And I suppose their mother or father, sitting on a old dead pine.

The mysterious is everywhere. And if you don't look, you won't see it. It takes a moment to get the noise out of your head, but it's worth it. Take a moment.

Breath.

‍