hands in the Pandemic…

Pandemic

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely that has become clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise the world your love—
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
as long as you shall live.
Lynn Unger
in UU World

sliver

art by Piwowarski

.

every sliver

conjures moonlight

cusps, magic, death, life,

bones and heart

e a r t h

artist: J Byron Schachner

 

e  a  r  t  h

ear to hear
eat to grow
heat to warm
hare to jump into my lap
that’s what e a r t h gives to me.

heart rate
hat to shelter
eat to taste
hate to warn me
that’s what e a r t h gives to me.

it’s a mother
it’s a father
it’s a sibling too.
most of all, a god like me
that’s what e a r t h brings to me!

E-Boxes

Jeanne’s Watercolor Box

Surface Watercolor Pattern

Used to be
I had one
in-box
on the
dining room table.

It was
housed
between
the salt
and figs,
pansies
and african violets.

Now
some fifteen
in-boxes
beep
blink
and
boss me
at home
and abroad.

While I
discern
“right of way”
in car
or crosswalk.

Their icons blink
and jostle
for space
on tiny screens…
thumbnail size.

They
claim to
reach the clouds.
While,
really,
need to be plugged
into a wall
each night,
lest screens
go dark…
incognito.

They sing
and gyrate
and pull
my pockets down
’til dress
comes off
shoulder
and drags its hem
in dust.

Some won’t work
unless my ears
are helmeted
and I look
astronaut,
antenna swinging
in the air.

Most of all,
these in-boxes
take me out of balance.
They act so
all-important
as to knock me
Off my feet,
scatterbrained,
heart bleeding!

I’m turning
inside out!
Taking fifteen
in-boxes
in, to turn
to one.
I’ll send
them out
together
in a song
of grace.

A song of praise.
Out to you.
Hear the music!
Surround sound.
Take calm.
Be at ease!

Discovering Woodstock, NY

Love is like the grass, but the heart is deep, wild rock. DH Lawrence

Drove from Hudson to Woodstock
to Upstate Movie Theater
to view Redford’s film “The Company You Keep”
http://youtube.googleapis.com/v/2r0l6TBszwo

Arrived 2 hours before the show
to see George Conant playing keyboard on the stage.

He invited us to come to theater
on Sundays, around noon to hear the live house band.

The heart of Woodstock is musicians.
Poems on Tuesdays, bands every night.
The vocalists can’t commit to every rehearsal
Too little control over the deep, wild rocks.

George learned piano, but plays guitar and bass;
Staging with the ghosts of past Woodstock Gatherings.

“Where should we eat?” I ask,
“And can we bring back a fish taco for you?”
Mexican restaurant with jalapeno lights and 100 masks
from El Salvador and Guatemala.

“No charge for tickets” George offers.
“Food costs more than ticket fee.”

“This is our last 35mm film showing” George announces.
“Digital from now on.” Gray heads marvel at the speed
Of media’s rocketing through the deep, wild rocks
Into 3D.
We’re spellbound with the film, and Woodstock’s stage:

Deep, wild rock dreams
for young and old
pull our heart strings!

In Box

Used to be
I had one
in-box
on the
dining room table.

It was
housed
between
the salt
and figs,
pansies
and african violets.

Now
some fifteen
in-boxes
beep
blink
and
boss me
at home
and abroad.

While I
discern
“right of way”
in car
or crosswalk.

Their icons blink
and jostle
for space
on tiny screens…
thumbnail size.

They
claim to
reach the clouds.
While,
really,
need to be plugged
into a wall
each night,
lest screens
go dark…
incognito.

They sing
and gyrate
and pull
my pockets down
’til dress
comes off
shoulder
and drags its hem
in dust.

Some won’t work
unless my ears
are helmeted
and I look
astronaut,
antenna swinging
in the air.

Most of all,
these in-boxes
take me out of balance.
They act so
all-important
as to knock me
Off my feet,
scatterbrained,
heart bleeding!

I’m turning
inside out!
Taking fifteen
in-boxes
in, to turn
to one.
I’ll send
them out
together
in a song
of grace.

A song of praise.
Out to you.
Hear the music!
Surround sound.
Take calm.
Be at ease!

In de pen dence Day:
July 4, 2012
Jeanne Poland