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Earth Wind Fire Air A Heart’s Life Laid Bare by Marsha Jane Orr, MS, MA, MED. My Hands They were old hands even at seventeen, Wisdom Women’s hands, one had shared generously. They were dry, hard, cracked and wrinkled , Not from work or play, not even from life,
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Earth Wind Fire Air A Heart’s Life Laid Bare by Marsha Jane Orr, MS, MA, MED
My Hands They were old hands even at seventeen, Wisdom Women’s hands, one had shared generously. They were dry, hard, cracked and wrinkled , Not from work or play, not even from life, All of which would have lent their dignity. No, they were just that way: Old even then. Some 50 years later they seem as if they have grown into themselves, More attached now to an equally old body. Strange though they still seem as if they belong to another. Who was the one who held these hands? How did they get so withered and dry and still live to Tell their story to me?
Heaven’s Refuge Old fears rattled through the night Claiming their charm, their price and their loss. The house sounds added orchestrated chorus: A rumbling furnace: the cajoling father; The chiming clock, a witty aunt; A toilet flushing, a crying friend. And near dawn, A small stream of light took up residence, Through blinds, determined to shine. Breaking dark, growing beam upon beam, Until day was all there was And night had vanished itself.
Bobby? He was older then I remembered him In fact, I hardly recognized him Even so, I took a double take— Nice looking man And then again, Bobby? Hi, how are you? He straightened his shirt and stood taller, Sucking in his gut. How long you here for? A few days, back from almost 5 years away. I’m 12 years older at least; he’s probably 50 to my 62. The gap doesn’t keep my heart from fluttering. It’s always been that way. He never notices. All the same Hearts have a mind of their own, And I give mine it’s due.
The Vineyard The gurgling refrigerator, The highway traffic whiz, The dog barking, The lights buzzing, Noise, Background OM, Modern silence when alone. Sounds drown heart pound That I might be found Here among the vineyards, Stripped of their last harvest, Fruit absconded, Bare branches tied, Skeletons to wires. Who might guess that here, In the winter of life, Spring might burst forth again?
A Life Journey She said, “What’s up?” You’re over thinking things, he thought. “I’m fine,” he relayed. “I don’t want you to feel obligated,” she said. He went on to share all his preparations. “I’m learning how to receive,” she said. “Oh, no, she’s not coming,” he thought. “Never even crossed my mind,” she said. “What’s your family say about what you’re doing?” “They are fine. They are excited for me. I just say we are having fun Come what may. They are protective of me and want me to safeguard my heart. My own thought of this is that to love is worth the risk of loss.” “Well, this is different for both of us,” he said. Travel together is like this. You get to say, “Look at that” and the other sees and shares it too.
The seasons change, Rain today, winds tomorrow. Life takes its Way, Even without us looking. We plan, we scheme, we hope, we pray We cry, we laugh And finally we agree, Had we actually been left To craft it ourselves, And maybe, truly we are, It couldn’t have been more Perfect, With its twists and turns, Its hilarities and sorrows, We are carved into ourselves, Magnificent sculptures, True grit, muddy quick sand, Hard as granite, soft as clay. We are what we are today Simply because we lived it.
Lies at the heart, Even in simple matters, Even to perpetuate a joke, Are still lies that threaten and aim to undermine the esteem of the one lied to or about. Integrity involves what is said about another, As much as one says about oneself. To allow another to lie about something that involves me; Involves me in a lie, And thereby impugns my integrity.
Eyes seeing eyes, Clouded streams of light against blankets of dust. How could I have been so blind? Why is it I allowed myself To creep into the black, As if I might escape the voyeurism untouched? Arrogance again Crowds humility, Dust to dust, As if nothing is learned, No hierarchy of goodness, Only this and that; that and this, An endless chain of events That clarify or elude The truth. One eye wary, The other sad, Knowing what is supposed Is just a blink away.
After shadows blast against once pure walls What is left? A deeper compassion? A more integrated wisdom? A greater love? Or just broken illusions? And if we walk through even this Assuaging fear to stand down Is it ignorance or strength? Enlightenment or enslavement? Chaos or bliss? What am I to make it my mastery? Claiming choice as if I command its fruit, Instead surrendering self to what’s so, Then picking up pieces, Crafting meaning, To make it mine. Or perhaps, Ultimately, Over riding what’s so, To declare what’s ideal, And stepping there, Towards that. Balance beam of reality, Found or lost?
I once had a dog, Loved her to bits, She went to another When family illness made her stay with us Untenable. She thrived there, loved and loving. She died there. Was her loss to us even felt or recognized? Perhaps she found a mended heart, That with another she would have missed in us, Despite our dearest hope To make it right for her. Expedience won out, An ever-ready battery approach: Keep on kicking, Just to stay alive. No luxury Even to grieve.
When all seems lost, Even gratitude escapes us, Especially or perhaps. Who can actually say They welcome loss, Despite its glossy magazine page lessons That follow later, When mind reasserts its rationale; The heart bled dry? I make myself see light. Black bullets everywhere, Eyes closed.
Enough words No more words Stop the words! Bombarding Heart sabers Cut to wound and slice Leaving bare blood upon our tables. There you see it. Finally you hear me. Had a quiet repose worked, Then fire would never have lit. Smoldering cinders instead Would lay low and await A later day to ignite explosive soul. At least this way What’s bare and raw Is known and exposed.
It was too much to hope, Really, Though I strove to allow it. Nothing escapes its underbelly: Light and dark, Dark and Light, A tuck there, A release here, Creating life out of clay. Air resides only where its allowed, Folded in pockets, Covered up passages of Presence and escape. Fortunately that’s not true! Air is everywhere, And it’s very hard to contain.
Baptism font Water washed clean. Aching soul hands Become a child’s glee. Pontius took freedom That was not his to give And left legacy that ages Later, Beyond all that was, Lived, Pure and free, To be Love.
If I listen, I can hear sparrows chirping, Hawks calling, Geese honking-- All sounds of Life around me-- If I will only, Always, open my ears. The rooster’s crow awakens in me Three times A new day…
