we are limbs to each other

Human beings are members of a whole,
In creation of one essence and soul.
If one member is afflicted with pain,
Other members uneasy will remain.
If you have no sympathy for human pain,
The name of human you cannot retain.

– Saʿdī, medieval mystical poet, native of Shiraz, Iran translating the Prophet Mohammad

indigo hosannas

this poem from today’s writer’s almanac reminded me of the garden at the degrazia gallery/house in tucson. adoring love drips from the page… timeless, dazzling devotion…

Wind chimes ping and tangle on the patio.
In gusty winds this wild, sparrow hawks hover
and bob, always the crash of indigo
hosannas dangling on strings. My wife ties copper
to turquoise from deserts, and bits of steel
from engines I tear down. She strings them all
like laces of babies’ shoes when the squeal
of their play made joyful noise in the hall.

Her voice is more modest than moonlight,
like pearl drops she wears in her lobes.
My hands find the face of my bride.
I stretch her skin smooth and see bone.
Our children bring children to bless her, her face
more weathered than mine. What matters
is timeless, dazzling devotion—not rain,
not Eden gardenias, but cactus in drought,
not just moons of deep sleep, not sunlight or stars,
not the blue, but the darkness beyond.

– “The Waltz We Were Born For” by Walt McDonald, from Blessings the Body Gave. © Ohio State University Press, 1998.

love was never meant to be restrained or reserved… at least not to a 4 like me. i wonder if mcdonald is a 4… seeing beauty in the darkness beyond…

LB

a moment’s pause

so, this is the last time i take the journey south, bound for dublin, on an outbound ticket. next time it’ll be a return.
tomorrow i’ll back up over the border in a van to move all my worldly possessions.

100 miles seems very far today. but as i stood on the platform at holywood with my suitcase and looked out over the lough, feeling my throat choke up and my eyes prick at the corners, i realised i felt relief mixed with the anxiety and sadness of such a significant day. relief at having a different view in the future. of how the past 4 years (almost) have been against this backdrop with so much sadness and loss. each time i have looked out over the water, that was in years before shared and home, having then changed irrevocably… each time looking out over the water acted as a reminder of things i’d rather forget.

i’m moving so that i have a different view. a life less scarred by memories. the memories i associate with dublin are older. and having been in belfast for 8 years, i have been able to leave much of the past it holds to rest. so that now it feels like a new place. so here i am, on a train, leaving the past behind.

as i sit here on the train as i have done so many times in recent months, and as i hold back tears, all i can say with conviction is, i want the future to be different.

::

later….

as the train passed Newry and crossed the border the sun finally appeared, and a feeling of leaving turned to going toward…

tomorrow i will have some, “see you soons” that will catch in my throat. but for now, the view from my parentals’ balcony is of hills and trees exploding in spring green and there’s dinner on the stove. so i’ll be thankful. for tomorrow will be a long day with a 200 mile round trip in the van and moving as much stuff as it’ll take and there won’t be time to pause and take in the beauty. and then a weekend of unpacking awaits.

::

the writer’s almanac for today tells me it’s annie dillard’s birthday. which is worth a pause in itself in which to feel good about the world. it’s a better place for her having been in it.

also from the almanac, Leisure, by William Henry Davies. which i haven’t read in years. hard to argue with…

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

::

as an old Irish saying goes,
not one of us is promised tomorrow.

LB