self help circle

Like sharing in a self help circle
Speaking in the first person
Looking inward
Striving for honesty and humility

My words may speak to you or not.
What matters is that I dare to do it and care not how you judge me.
But looking inward is not at all the whole story.
Caring what goes on in the world counts big time.

I do not aspire to the poetry of self alone.
I call that a false identity in isolation.
The circle is a shared experience.
Meeting together provides support.

The world out there shapes our lives.
Our experience is not just biology and humanity.
Private property is not natural law.
The suffering of the poor is not necessary.

I have wanted to write a political poetry.
Is that a contradiction in terms?
Everyone with eyes sees the destruction of the planet.
How are we going to stop this?

Joe Hill at his execution said:
“Don’t mourn, organize!”
So heroic and yet the IWW failed
And the historical outcome is de-industrialization.

Gandhi exemplified the non-violent struggle
But mass movements heave forwards then subside
Like waves crashing on the beach
As the tide of human history ebbs and flows.

For each of us it begins with what we control.
The personal is political. Do you live by the golden rule?
That’s a start. Do you do community service work?
That’s helping to make the world a better place.

In the next life

The meeting room so familiar more than 30 years ago,
Not seen in half my lifetime,
Not given much thought all those years,
You are there in that room but I don’t know you.

Now I am remembering the youth gathering there
Thinking of you being there living your separate thread.
You were college age and single.
I was nearer 30 and father of an elementary schoolchild.

The women there were impressive in every way.
You are one of those women.
Many a time I have mused what if I were paired with one of them.
I am excited to re-meet you, hopeful we will like each other.

For us our encounter is a bit of meeting in the afterlife.
I dropped away after 5 years, moved out of town, working overtime.
You were devoted to the cause for 30 years, loyal and true.
And now you are moving on to the next life.

I awake this morning in the cabin next to the brook in full flood
With the rushing, roaring waterfall sound to center me
And I remember the Key Martin cabin near Stamford.
Did you ever spend a night there?

It’s not so far from here, also on a brook
On the West Branch near the headwaters,
Filling the New York City reservoir system
On its way to Trenton and Philadelphia.

Having a cabin like this was a boyhood fantasy.
Now this is real, this is so special,
Infused with the kinetic energy of the brook.
Having a companion like you is my adult fantasy.

memory day bike and row

Enjoying the passage of time

What a wonderful place to be.
I feel young. It is an unexpected delight.
Who would have thought
Here’s the fountain of youth.

“Do you have room in your life for someone else?”

Strange how the question comes up
When I was asking myself the same question.
I like so much in my life today.
Is there a way to be with you and not lose that?

Making the trip down out of the mountains

I am gliding along the country road
Following the contours of the land
Following the stream then turning
Powering up and over the height of land.

I know the way by heart.

Later, just in front of me on the escalator down
A small child stumbles and I reach to hold her up.
I am a stranger to her. I talk to her gently.
My daughter compliments my parental response.

All the children are my children in my heart.

after the rain