Left Behind In Ashes

“I’m not crying because of you; you’re not worth it. I’m crying because my delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are.” – Steve Maraboli

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Nothing matters in the end…
Years of memories, erased
without a thought.
Years of love, gone!
Like a house after a lightning bolt,
the spark of a sudden death,
Brick by brick, frame by frame,
not even a mirror on the wall…
The promise of a home
up in the smoke
and down to the ground,
left behind in ashes…
Like a half smoked cigarette
slowly burning, without apology,
setting its surrounding aflame.
When love betrays
only the death of heart
lingers in the air.
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Morning Harmony

“There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.” – William C. Bryant


The morning song
Nature’s tongue…
only birds’ chirping
fills the silence and
iridescent glow of
peace and harmony.
The morning dew
gleefully hugging
the garden of golden hue,
winking at the sun
before melting
into the petals of blooms.
I look up to the stars –
Thank you for sleeping
and letting my soul shine
if only for a little while,
when all in solitude
is communing
in perfect sincerity
in beauty dissolved,
the morning song…
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Picture Perfect View

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” – Buddha


Everything moves gracefully today
like a silk scarf in the wind
flowing away.
The puffy clouds in the pristine sky,
the cars on the distant highway,
the couple strolling in the nearby park
like lovers holding hands,
the leaves on the branches of young trees,
even the blades of grass
are dancing in the rhythm of life,
as I sit on top of the hill
in silence meditating
on the fragrance of the air I breathe.
How fortunate I am to have this
picture perfect view to see
from above without looking down.
I accept the good won’t last and
the bad too shall pass.
I only have Now and everything
it brings to my sight, feeding my heart.
Only now am I alive.
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The Earth And Seven Seas

“When the heart is supple, it can be “broken open” into a greater capacity to hold our own and the world’s pain: it happens every day. When we hold our suffering in a way that opens us to greater compassion, heartbreak becomes a source of healing, deepening our empathy for others who suffer and extending our ability to reach out to them.” ― Parker J. Palmer

screen-shot-2017-02-01-at-1-33-55-pm-2Photo credit: Alisa Prideaux-Mooney

What makes poetry compelling, I often ponder.
Is it young love shining through the trails of paradise
without limits floating in their sheer veils of delight?
What if an arctic circle without life becomes the plot?
Is it the claws of painful life sharp as a razor
cutting through a forest of broken hearts?
Left behind bleeding helplessly like orphans
without the strength to climb the shores of a safe escape.
Nobody is looking back, nobody will know if they drowned.
But what if they’re still alive, barely breathing,
crawling without a voice, desperately reaching for our souls,
evoking emotions we never felt before, tasting blood in our throats.
Would we stop? Would we turn to help?
It might be too much for some to offer their hand;
nobody wants to have a bitter stain on their dress or tie,
nobody wants to be derailed from their luxurious life.
Perhaps we are all too overwhelmed by tragedy and loss,
by hearing about rape and murder of a child,
numb we must write about the subtle beauty of a dolphin’s play
to be able to breathe and survive the toxic rain.
Perhaps we are unable to look into another’s face
for a fear to see dark crossroads of hopelessness
reminding us of our own dreamless road.
Perhaps we ourselves became paralyzed by our sorrow and misery,
when we can’t help but hear the river weep its haunting song,
when we slowly drown with our spirit muted, unable to speak
waiting for the wind to play our broken instruments in the window,
the shadow of our own.
So, perhaps an occasional escape of the mind is a treasure to behold.
Where not all is yet lost, where there’s always hope – we must believe.
Where the ocean, the stars, sand between toes, and meadows meet.
Where lovers dance their tango in the royal hall of endless dream
and a smile like a butterfly gently tickles our soul.
Perhaps it’s not only heaven or hell but the earthly path we journey
and the seven seas we swim where we dive into the depths to grow,
where we reach for one another’s fingers and won’t let go.
But perhaps, I am completely wrong about it all.
I wrote this poem last year during the Syrian refugee crisis throughout Europe. But it’s apparent, today’s times bring similar sadness, fear, and sense of hopelessness. The more fortunate are bombarded by tragic images, the less fortunate must live them, and the ones in power seem to be playing with the fragility of life. I’m not a politically much-versed person, but this is not about politics. This is about humanity and the decency of the human heart. May we all find peace someday.
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Labyrinth of Her Soul

“Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed. ” ― Leo Tolstoy


When you take a moment to see
you will be met with a smile at the gate.
But the gate will slowly close
and you will feel the true taste of rain.
Swallowed by the depth
of the meandering path
you will feel the river of sorrow
wide as the Nile, you might drown.
A valley of calmness as hypnotic
as Sahara’s sands,
Mt. Everest of overcoming,
and the Grand Canyon reflecting
a million of tiny deaths.
You’ll feel the layers of fierce energy
in the gaze of a hungry bear and
gentleness as if touched by a newborn’s hand;
the mindful journey of a solitary soul
rooted in the center of deep, deep soil.
Perhaps you’ll get lost
in the labyrinth of her thought but
only when you take a moment
will you know.
Know her Soul.
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The Corrosion of Time

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” – Oscar Wilde


Only a moment –
that’s all we have
before the feather drifts away,
before the raindrop
breaks the ground.
The last second
has long departed
to the distant sky,
the next minute might
not arrive;
the corrosion of time.
In an instant,
that feels like
a slow-motion film,
black ink spills
over our life.
Only a moment
separating us
from dancing and crawling,
from a morning kiss and
our good-bye.


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Silhouette of Wealth

“You are not rich until you have a rich heart.” ― Roy T. Bennett


What is it that we cannot buy or sell?
Is it wisdom or experience,
the warmth of breath?
Is it faith that becomes one’s wealth?
Is health the sacred possession,
a balanced mind or kind soul?
Is it joy or a bird’s song,
whispers of trees,
or tomorrow’s dreams?
Is it passion for life,
a spark in the eye,
or gratitude for waking up?
Countless of riches there are
around the world,
within the soul
that cannot be bought nor sold.
The trick is to feel their silhouette
before they are gone.
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The Valley of Moments

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul alike.” ~ John Muir


The view, so splendid,
the wind, ever so softly
melting through the leaves.
The passing time –
a valley of moments,
when you know but
can’t admit.
Then the rain in solidarity
begins to fall as if
to reach for your soul.
And you can’t help
but forgive adversity,
so you can feel
the blades of grass grow
…once more.
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“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” – Henry David Thoreau

screen-shot-2016-11-25-at-2-00-28-pmPhoto credit: dublinsmick.wordpress.com

I would like to say Good-Bye
to the forest of darkness;
but without darkness
I would never feel the warmth of light.
I would like to say Good-Bye
to a broken heart;
but without healing it
I would never know
what feeling whole is like.
I would like to say Good-Bye
to all enemies;
but without them
I would never know true friends.
I would like to say Good-Bye
to feeling lost and all alone;
but without loneliness
I would never know
the joy of being found.
So, I won’t say Good-Bye
to all that hurts in life
for I need to feel pain
to heal and grow.
I need to feel lost
to seek stars, see their glow.
I won’t say Good-Bye.
Not just yet.
There are too many trails to travel
too many eyes to see
too many stories to learn
too many rivers to swim.
I won’t say Good-Bye
instead, I will say Hello
to all the strangers
of one’s Soul.
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After the Storm

“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.” ― Viktor E. Frankl


The calm before the storm
nobody knew how hard it would hit
we closed the doors, we hid
we hoped
but we didn’t know the
it would bring.
When we woke
only in shock
we stared
broken hearts
broken trees
falling leaves
the dust settling down
on the disappearing paths.
Our wounds still bleeding
as our feet touch
the bare ground
we begin to crawl
the bloody trail
one step ahead
two steps back
candle in the hand
to see through the forest
of despair.
Holding onto hope
guided by the stars
pulled down by the snake
someday we’ll fly
when a change
shapes our wings
we’ll learn to feel again.
We will fly again.
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