I can imagine the despair of the Israelites fleeing Egypt only to be trapped by the Red Sea. We forget that even what’s ordinary like fleeing from slavery or building a home is ultimately outside our abilities. Our efforts bring heartbreak. As we walk submission and obedience permit those seas to be parted.
The beauty of the impossible is that we cannot walk through walls of water on our own. We have to allow the love that is stronger than the universe to open the door.
Happy Passover - Happy Easter
Linked to dVerse Open Link Night as aphoristic prose poetry.
When our cat died, we wept. We looked at each other differently, with more patience and not taking the other for granted, for about a week feeling her presence in her absence.
Eventually laughter returned. Whatever we learned, and will have to learn again with the next dying we face, laughter was no disrespect for her passing. The return of laughter was her gift of gratitude to us.
Linked to dVerse Poetics where Lillian is hosting. I look at this as a prose poem or aphorism.
The thought of riding my bicycle up and down Indiana State Road 55 and even getting as far as DeMotte, exhausted and proud because we also got back, makes me realize today how big I felt our world was back then no matter how small it actually was by other measurements. Like burrowing rodents on a communal challenge, we knew that trip my brother and I took to DeMotte broke important, new ground.
There was a hill half a mile from the prairie farm we had to climb to reach our destination. We were told to be careful because cars could not see us. We were careful, at least on our bikes, or lucky that few cars usually drive that rural road. I wondered why that hill was there at all considering how flat everywhere else was. At the time I reasoned that even the slightest elevation, say a foot, must be caused by a dinosaur’s body lying somewhere below. I wanted to dig them up and then keep going to China.
I can still see that hill, but I can’t find it for sure on Google Maps. The information online does put in perspective most of the places I heard and imagined as a child. “So that’s where they are!” I tell myself. However, I don’t need an online map for that hill. Even in my memory it remains difficult to bike up, but fun to ride down.
QUIET CORN AND BEANS
GROWING ON DEEP PRAIRIE SOIL
CHILDREN RUSHING BY
The weather is too cold, too hot, too wet, too dry but something, since there’s room, if only rock, may call it home and welcome passing waves of water, air and other life although what comes may soon move on. Its welcome doesn’t mind the moving on. It’s glad to serve as ground.
We build out there where weather’s hot or cold or wet or dry like plants that cuddle sheltered by the cracks from waves of water, air and other life. It’s bleak but something calls this pure space home and some proclaim this home a sacred place.
Even seagulls understand,
Salute the brightening Sun.
They pause with eyes that watch it rise,
Give praise, for day’s begun.
Photo: “Sun Salutation” by the author. I am linking this to K’lee and Dale’s Cosmic Photo Challenge with theme “gratitude” and since gratitude seems to make forgiveness easier I am also linking it to Debbie Roth’s Forgiving Fridays.
I have never seen an owl, but I have seen pictures. I don’t remember if they ever appeared in my dreams. There they could come in many forms representing, so I’ve heard, good luck or bad or death or wisdom perhaps with the sprinkling of Merlin’s understanding of reality. Unfortunately, like most people, the scientific nonsense I believe in, without being aware of it, would still keep me from taking such dreams seriously. It’s really too bad. Maybe the owl has brought me bad luck through the back door? Maybe, because I refuse to take that deep, transforming breath and become as wise as those owls are said to be, I deserve all my current blindness? Maybe this, too, will all turn out well in the end?
OWL WISE AND BOLD
WINTER VIEW IS CLEAR BUT COLD
PEACEFUL FALLING SNOW