The World Will Follow Joy Page 4
whenever I want!
And that is just a taste
as the old people used to say
down in Georgia
when I was a child
of what you get
for getting old.
Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity
about them, that no matter the losses, there’s
something fabulous going on at every stage
of Life, something to let go of, maybe, but for
darn sure, something to get!
***
Desire
My desire
is always the same; wherever Life
deposits me:
I want to stick my toe
& soon my whole body
into the water.
I want to shake out a fat broom
& sweep dried leaves
bruised blossoms
dead insects
& dust.
I want to grow
something.
It seems impossible that desire
can sometimes transform into devotion;
but this has happened.
And that is how I’ve survived:
how the hole
I carefully tended
in the garden of my heart
grew a heart
to fill it.
***
March Births
Many brave souls
who inhabit my heart
entered the brightening
but still chilly door
of earthly Life in the changeable month
of March.
The deep, noble, easily bruised
Pisceans
Flowers
Themselves
Arrived in that part of the month
when hardly one white or lavender
crocus, daring, vulnerable
& sweet
can be found;
except perhaps
in the prescient
South.
And those others:
the late in the month
born
Ariesians—
Dragons
And butterflies—
Who were born
it seems
to set this world
of shyness
& daffodils
stunningly
on fire.
It was my destiny
to behold and to cherish
you all.
What these births
at winter’s end
teach us to believe
is that what looks
frozen or even dead
may burst into bloom
unexpectedly
at any time.
That to love
another,
any other, is to align oneself
with eternal spring.
It is in fact
Loving
any other being
all one ever needs
one’s self
To come to bud
& flower
once more
& be born
Again.5
***
Two boys on a pink tricycle
Sometimes we fall in love
With a people
For reasons
They might never know.
For instance,
In Dharamsala
In the foothills of
The Himalayas
We met a beautiful man
Whose life
Was children.
How to find them,
Feed them,
Ferry them across
The mountains
In the snow.
There were many
Who were motherless
But everywhere
All around their new home
Was cleanliness
Colorfulness
And light.
Two boys on a pink tricycle
Caught my heart
And then a little girl
Born to boss
The world someday
Strode by
All two and a half years
Of her.
Our friend, her guardian,
Smiled at my delight.
These children he said
Come to us over the mountains
Sometimes their parents
Die along the way.
Sometimes
These are the children
Of lovers
Who have met in sorrow
And surprise
Along the route
Away from home
On the path that leads
To a new life
They have no real idea
About.
These are the children
Created by the love
That can flourish
In the oddest of situations
The strangest
Of places.
We know they bring with them
Their parents’ courage
Their bravery
In the face
Of every kind of threat.
That they are special
And destined to be
Grown-up and if at all possible
Happy and connected
To who their parents were
Is well known
To us.
***
Coming to Worship the 1,000-Year-Old Cherry Tree
Life is good. Goodness is its character;
all else is defamation.
The Earth is good. Goodness is its nature.
Nature is good. Goodness is its essence.
People are also good. Goodness is our offering;
our predictable yet unfathomable flowering.
Thankful and encouraged
Infused with our peaceful inheritance
May we not despair.
***
Listening to Bedouins, Thinking of Bob
Sometimes I look at your photograph
And I wonder: where did your smile go
When you died;
Where could such a sunrise hide?
Is it still out there among the foliage and the hills
The trees and the grass?
I believe it is there.
That we will find it waiting
To ferry us
On those days our hearts are heavy
with the pain of this world
And our own tears are the deep river
We must cross.
***
Peonies
For Oprah Winfrey
Years ago you sent me peonies
too many to actually count
in a green glass vase
so huge
that it reminded me of the sea.
You must have discerned
through my incessant
word droppings
—compost for my life—
how much I treasure them:
more than food itself,
when I was young.
And did you also know this flower
the peony
is one of few that requires
the help of others
in order to bloom?
That its indispensable friend
is the tiny ant
who, drawn to its sweetness,
opens it up?
Each and every Springtime
it does this.
Walking today
I thought of this solidarity, and of you, as I turned
toward home.
I wanted to praise all that you have given
us.
I was going to start by mentioning
Hatshepsut, the queen who ruled
Ancient Egypt
as king of all the lands.
But then realized
something closer to home and even more eternal:
You are the peony, sister;
you are also the ant.
We thank you f
or biting through your
own restrictions
and blooming
so fearlessly
all these years,
affirming in brilliant color and sound
our own need to open
and helping us out.
***
Black and White Cows
When you were little I delighted
in every word you uttered.
You were so clever!
For instance: the word “utter.”
Holding your small hand to my throat
to feel why the word “utter” is so different
from the word “bark”
you wondered aloud:
So is it the same with cows?
You know, do cows
have them. Utters?
No, I said
udder is different
it is something
that carries milk.
You liked milk
especially chocolate.
Oh, you said, getting it
right away:
Utter I speak!
Udder I drink!
Close enough
I said,
adoring you.
We spent the morning
quietly sipping mugs of dark cocoa
smiling a lot
drawing & then painting
black and white cows.
***
Worms Won’t Need a Menu
For my “girls”
I am glad
You will never
See
Menus
All over
The world
On which
Your flesh
Appears
In thousands
Of
Seductive
ways.
I console
Myself: Worms
Won’t need
A menu
To describe
Their human
Dinners.
Still,
I like to imagine
Them
Sitting alert
At table
Reading
Of
Our
Succulence.
***
From Paradise to Paradise
From paradise
to paradise
I go
sweeping;
collecting
rocks
&
views;
owning
nothing
but what I feel.
Who taught
me this?
This thankfulness?
You did.
Maker of all
Paradises.
Without borders
or cessation.
Bowing
as
I kneel.
***
Sailing the Hot Streets of Athens, Greece
It has been so
hot!
Is it hot
where you are?
Penned up
in a destroyed
place?
In Gaza?
The whole world
distracted
by its weathers
& other
disasters
still is watching
us,
Gaza,
as we yearn
towards each other.
Trying to embrace
each other
to give each
other,
to ourselves
united,
a simple
hug.
The whole world
is watching
Gaza
& it is
wondering how
things
will
turn out.
They are making
it hard
for us to move
Gaza
& sometimes
we are
in despair
but I remind
us
that you
of all people
understand
obstruction.
They know this place
we are in, I say,
of not
being able to move.
They know it
intimately.
This place of stalemate
& stagnation, so unbearable
to any heart
that’s free
is where they
hourly
live.
They will forgive
us
if we do not
arrive
on time.
Furthermore,
having left our
own homes
we are
already
there.
I believe
with all my heart
in the magic
and the power
of intention.
The women & men
with cameras
come
to record
our dreams
& our frustrations;
most of them are
young
& we are glad
of this.
We want them
to see their
counterparts
& their elders
attempting to make
this voyage
to endure
this crossing.
We pray they
are of good heart
& balanced
mind.
Even
the spies
among them
we hope
will learn
something
they may never
have guessed
before:
That a boat
filled
with love letters
from children
is a threat
to those
with
apparently
little memory
of youth
or experience
of love.
I have given
my word that I would
sail
and so I do—if not
on our boat
that is not so far
allowed to go
to sea,
then through
the air sending
thoughts and feelings
I sail:
We all sail.
We sail the hot, sticky
streets
of Athens, Greece
longing to see
the faces
& deliver
love letters
to the people
of Gaza.
***
Written on our beautiful boat whose canopy is a giant
peaceful American flag, as we sailed the waters off
the coast of Greece and were intercepted by armed
commandos of the Greek coast guard.
Life Takes Its Own Sweet Time
Life takes
its own
sweet time
to configure
just the wound
to stagger us:
so we may never forget
who runs the show
in these territories.
For years
we may circle
the puncture
soundlessly
running mental fingers
around its edges
as if fearing
a drain
that might suck away
the soul.
A decade might pass
in silence
before we once again
test our timid
voice
to shout inside the wound
& discover
the miracle:
that where pain has lived
so resplendently
for so long
there now resides
an insouciant
exuberance
to match
our
newly revealed
and
irrepressible smile.
***
One Meaning of the Immaculate Heart
To hate no one
& nothing:
this is one meaning
of the “immaculate
heart”
that I did not understand
before.
To see
every human
blunder
no matter
how stinking
as an odious
misuse
of God.
***
To Stand Beaming and Clapping
To stand beaming and clapping for anyone
who bombs water
& denies to children
its purity to drink
endangers you,
made mostly of water
as you are.
See this. Before it is too late.
***
And in that sacred time
For h. e.
And in that sacred time
as we quietly awaited our fate
we spoke of offspring
who have discovered
so much to resist bearing
in us.
Well, we might have said
if we had thought
of it;
as we
watched
through a porthole
of our boat
black booted
boarders
with guns
make
a starboard
approach:
there are children
who’ve never heard
about our
misadventures
or in any case
not all of them:
(we would offer full disclosure if they might ask):
waiting
to see
and perhaps understand our failures
for themselves
on the bombed
and barricaded beach
still so far away
in Gaza.
***
Why Peace Is Always a Good Idea
For Jacqui Hairston, with love
Because you could plant peach trees
And because of peace
You could eat them in five or six
Years
Peaches not trees
And your children
Could eat them
After you are gone!
And because you could not see
A friend for a long, long time