Archive for the ‘Spiritual’ Category

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Because

Because of what happened
this garden is my refuge,
this silence amongst purple coleus
trailing inquisitive vinca vines.

I hear not one opinion
uttered from the plants,
just their perky faces toward morning light,
their spines straight with innocence
and disregard for my life,

or possibly standing tall
to demonstrate graceful endurance.
Only their lives matter—being God’s
earthly ambassadors, holding
no one accountable for silliness.

Even the overgrown fern
showers delight from its crowded
nest of green fronds,
drooping, bowing to reality.

Time, I say.
Time they tell me is needed
for strides of growth. Time and rain—
rain from dark clouds pouring
into patient soil, rearing
the pointed caladium leaves of fiery red
and starlight of white impatiens’ flowers.

My Patio in August

My Patio in August

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Fabyan Japanese Gardens

Fabyan Japanese Gardens

To Be Changed

seek quiet
in a Japanese Garden

walk without sound
passing black pines

slender lavender blooms
on giant ribbed hostas

the dry stone creek bed
will rush with rain

pause at the pond
cross the moon bridge

dipping to the stone lantern’s
unmovable thick walls

arched openings for light
seeping through rice paper

at night
to change you

Moon Bridge and Lantern

Moon Bridge and Lantern

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Still Living

I will be alive
when I am dead,
did you know that?
I will not be still
like a hard stone,
but breathing
as roses do,
as robins do,
as the heart
of mountains
which change
and move,
as the mycelium
of mushrooms
under the soil,
unseen, ignored,
sprouting up
at a moment’s notice.

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Dark Moaning

And now December
After changing the clock
This deep gray sky
This dark moaning day
This cold wind and threat

From which will come
the light
From which will come
the music
From which will come
the hope

Posted December 16, 2012 by perettipoems in Contemplation, POEMS & ART COPYRIGHTED, Poetry, Spiritual

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Taking Merton’s Path

This moving away
from the world,
this moving inside
somewhere near
the center, to hold onto
God
is one way,
but avoidance,

then one day
in the clatter
of the world
God enters in,
tells me She is in
my heart — the quiet
which has been
growing there is God,

the One who takes
me by the hand
into the tumult,
to be there without
noise, without distress,
with new compassion.