When friends struggle
I hope to tell them
it will all be okay,
but without seeming
so damn naive;
an okay that bubbles up
from the depths
of all lives interwoven,
that pacifying and invigorating
guttural yes-essence
with which I hope to speak,
ever so softly,
despite complete confidence
in our underlying peace,
a calm that flows on
just like the river beyond the trees—
a river we’ve all but forgotten.

After all,
how could we not forget the river?
What with all our posturing—
political and otherwise,
our fear-mongering,
bomb-building,
ass-waggling,
incessant personal drama
and righteous tut-tut-tutting!

BUT WAIT! It will all be okay, even if it’s not.

~ 1 ~

On a thickly forested trail
with gnarled tree roots and
rocks, rocks, rocks
piled and strewn about
over unrelenting hills,
all snares set,
discouraging hasty progress.
Plodding along, thinking,
perhaps around the next bend
is a place where few have gone
and waiting there is nothing—
       motionless,
       shapeless,
       colorless,
       odorless,
       even less-less,
and of course, utterly silent
or imperceptibly humming
all the while not cold, nor hot,
just
just.

~ 2 ~

If I can somehow wander
through wonder to this
no-thing
and find a way back to you,
despite an overwhelming urge
to share what wasn’t seen,
I surely won’t have much to say!

Maybe over morning coffee,
strong and impenetrably black,
a crooked grin, wink
and glint in my eye
will resonate ever so slightly
with a touch of suchness
and all its hope—
waiting here,
always right before us.