SOMEBODY'S BABY

(A poem inspired by a homeless woman I will most likely never see again.)

 

I walked our regular daily walk today

Seeing the routine views along the way 

Trees and streets, and then skies up there 

I observe the sights - I breathe the air 

Then quickly something catches my attention 

Shaking my head, I grasp for comprehension

A troubled one - limping, dirty, disheveled - an alone and lost lady

Once upon a time, that was somebody's baby

 

That was the phrase that flashed across my mind

Too late, to now turn my head away, blind 

Where is she going, where did she come from

Too easy to throw her aside like some runaway bum

No, this one, like all of us, has a history and a life 

She has had very similar battles, struggles and fights

Perhaps cradled, as an infant, in warm arms - maybe?

The truth is, that was indeed somebody's baby 

 

Who does this soul belong to, an angel she must have 

Someone who watches over her, even with the past she’s had

Whatever happened, there was at least a father and a mother 

For how long this lasted, we will probably never discover 

But she is a human – once and therefor forever one of us

Embracing her in some way, a true and faithful community must 

Someday to reside in a sacred place – calm, serene, shady 

For this is somebody's baby … this is somebody's baby 

   

A BEAUTY BEYOND COMPARE

Today, for a daily dose of writing prose, I keep it simple.

I marvel at the vision before me.

A youngster - a mere 2 and 2/3 year old. 

I write this one with a heart weary of the bad news of the day.

That can be kept at bay.

For today, here is a grand opportunity to see beyond the dark edges brought to us by a world which has forgotten its source. 

Here is my chance. 

A simple glance - upon this illumined face, the deep round eyes, holding not one hint of disguise. The pure expression, filled with the unbridled joy of brand new exploration.

Here is Abigail. 

Holding her Abby Doll. Apparently inseparable, at least in images in recent memory.

Here is Abigail, My niece’s child. Sister of Allison - also new to this new world. 

May her light, may their light, guide the way. Not just for themselves, but for anyone who has the opportunity to join in this experience, a chance at a glance - in a series of photos I wish to share. 

A beauty beyond compare.

A Dream of Tug of War

 

One of my nighttime dreams that stands as an inspiration for levels of consideration and care.  

Yes, last night I dreamed of a tug of war

Between our dearly departed dog and me

Seemed so real, nothing less, nothing more

Just a visit from our dear Hennessy

I questioned what she wanted with this boy

I didn’t know what she would bring

At last, she brought to me a toy

It was a fluffy, chewy, funny type thing

We lost our girl in 2021, you see

It was so deeply painful to the core

And now I’m left with just a dream

A dream of tug of war

She was the one who started the game

She pulled, and then shook from side to side

Of course, I played along just the same

No other option really but to oblige

She was always the one to offer up the prop

It was just her way to have me included

She had to have both her mom and pop

She was never one to have any fun excluded

She’d invite me on walks no matter the weather 

She’d stand there planted, and stare at me

The whole pack had to be walking together

That was the way of Hennessy 

So the tug of war, was it really a fight

Or just a way to have some fun?

Was someone supposed to feel a slight

Or had play time just begun?

Surely, this was now a time to connect 

To find that game we could play together 

Full of mutual joy and mutual respect 

How I wish it could last forever 

But one dream ends and another begins 

What is one to do when a goodbye is in the cards

Who cares who loses and who wins

Isn’t life and all its losses already too hard 

For life is never what it really seems

Let us play the games and not be sore 

Even though sadly, I’m left with just a dream

A dream of tug of war

The Valentine of Mine

Written on Valentine's Day 2023 for my wife Jennifer.

The Valentine of mine 

In the world that is sublime

Full of rhythm, meter, and rhyme

Singing bowls echo as to remind 

I cordially bow at this time 

To you, the Valentine of mine 

 

The Valentine so true

Even when we don’t know what to do 

Searching for ways to forever start anew

Searching for unlimited vistas and views

Searching for highest versions of me and you

Yes you, the Valentine so true

 

The Valentine on high

Whose spirit will explore ways to fly

Having experienced so many reasons to cry

Hearing the sweet whispers of spirit’s reply 

The ultimate truth of unity will never lie 

Her, the Valentine on high

The Valentine of light

Erasing all versions of wrong and right  

Returning pure perception to our sight

Through any tumultuous times, we hold on tight   

I endeavor to face any foes in gallant fight 

For you, the Valentine of light

 

The Valentine so kind

Rekindling a heart, soul and mind 

Polishing my rough edges to shine 

A gift given from the invisible, eternal divine 

A gift for both of us to find 

A gift of you, the Valentine of mine 

The Valentine of mine 

 

On the Floor of the San Jose International Airport

San Jose International Airport, Southwest Airlines, Gate 12 about 100 feet beyond the Chick-fil-A, near the window, on the floor, 9:30 pm pst. 

On Zoom with the wife.  

Yes, we accomplished our goal. 

Keeping the commitment to participate in the 30-day Core Challenge with Calvin of Alo Moves yoga. 

Yeah, we were on Day 29, so how could we let a bit of inconvenience get in our way? 

Maybe the real challenge is overcoming obstacles towards our goals, moreso than any physical exertion. 

In either case, completed and successful! 

What's next?

She'll Be In Our Arms Regardless

 

In texting with my niece Grace, we were trying to get clear on the best days and times to set up a Zoom call so we could connect. She and her husband Cody moved to Indiana a couple years ago, along with their Abigail Faith. On December 6, the family welcomed Allison. There needed to be a game-plan so we could all be on the same screen at once. Grace came up with the most poetic phrase. I grabbed it. 

 

As we planned out a long-distance video call

We wanted to make sure we could see everyone 

We didn’t want to miss out an anyone at all

But naps come to those who are routinely under one

Yes, dear Allison only two months, would need to come along

We’d have Grace, her husband Cody, and little Abigail in tow

Leaving anyone out would simply be so wrong

Family connections are forever, for those you really know

For these are timeless moments that we’ll always want to keep

Great niece Allison is innocent, pure, small, and harmless

She will be there, whether wide awake, fidgety, or asleep 

Says Grace, “She will be in our arms … regardless”

She will be in her arms regardless the time and the day 

She will be there if she yawns, naps or cries

She will be there most likely with nothing much to say

But with a sweetness whose limit is the infinite skies 

For babies, kids and children of God are simply made this way 

At core, we shimmer and shine in a surrendered state, defenseless

Just like Allison, we’ve been blessed by the Divine this and every day 

Grace says, “She will be in our arms … regardless”

Now I imagine there is another type of world 

One that does not recall the miracle of love 

Forgetting the innocence of the little boy and girl 

Never looking towards a high heaven above 

It is filled with heartache, rage, guilt, and sorrow

Darkened by despair, deceit, and disconnection 

Tragic is the manifestation from enmity and ego 

Awaiting the depth of release that comes from reflection

Wandering around in the forest of folly, the grand delusion

There we are lost; it is sad, separate, and senseless

But underneath the layers, we can find the true solution 

Yes … says Grace, “She will be in our arms … regardless”

So, rest assured lonely travelers, you can discover the path

From the eternal ocean, all drops of water shall reside  

Fishers of men, the line has been surely cast 

No longer can your illumination be set aside 

You are invited, with an everlasting invitation, to the timeless call 

To a haven elevated, heart-filled, humble, priceless

No one will ever, ever, ever be missing at all 

For Grace reflects the truth: “She will be in our arms … regardless”

The Sweetest of Dreams

Yesterday I received a call from my 100-year-old aunt, Amy.

She is the sweetest thing.

A couple thoughts come to mind when that phone rings and I see her number. One is “Uhh, no matter what is going on - ANSWER IT!” The other is “I bet this is about one of her recent dreams.” We like to share our dreams we have about our family members, especially those who have passed on. And as she consistently reminds me, everyone from her childhood has indeed passed on. One of them includes her brother … my father.

Yesterday after answering the phone, she went straight to the point. Yes, she had a dream. This one wasn’t about my dad, but rather it was about HER dad.

She reminded me that she and her father did not have a good relationship. In fact, she grew up with the thought, “Why does my father not like me?”

Oh, she had a couple theories. One was that she wasn’t as good of a golfer as her sister. Another was that her birth marked the end of the supplemental income that her mother would bring in. Whatever the case, she had a lifetime of discord and distance with her dad.

Ever since 1973, the year my grandfather passed, since Amy was 49 years old, she said she carried this pain and resentment. She said, “I was never mean, but I’ve always been mad.”

Well, I guess it’s lucky that time is a construct of the mind and can be molded in malleable ways ... especially in those etheric realms. For it would be 51 years later, within this Thursday morning dream that her father would return to her.

Amy and her father were both on a golf course, interestingly enough.

He approached and simply looked at her and said, “I am sorry for the way that I treated you.” He then gave his daughter a long and loving hug.

Hearing of this moving dream, I asked Amy how she felt. “Relief! I don’t have to be mad at him anymore.”

She said it with a smile.

And I imagine she said it with a heart healed through the everlasting eternal love that does exist between family members, soul tribes, and in this case a father and a daughter.