Anam Cara

Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times

When all was awkward

And the wave in the mind

Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped

The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter

With light from beyond themselves;

And from the granite of some secret sorrow

A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,

For all we loved and lost

And for the quiet way it brought us

Nearer to our invisible destination.

THE INNER HISTORY OF A DAY

No one knew the name of this day;

Born quietly from deepest night,

It hid its face in light,

Demanded nothing for itself,

Opened out to offer each of us

A field of brightness that traveled ahead,

Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps

And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;

It dwells within the silence with elegance

To create a space for all our words,

Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides

That is more gracious than the smallness

That fuels us with fear and force,

A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks

For being betrothed to the unknown

And for the secret work

Through which the mind of the day

And wisdom of the soul become one.

FOR THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS OF A SUICIDE

As you huddle around the torn silence,

Each by this lonely deed exiled

To a solitary confinement of soul,

May some small glow from what has been lost

Return like the kindness of candlelight.

As your eyes strain to sift

This sudden wall of dark

And no one can say why

In such a forsaken, secret way,

This death was sent for…

May one of the lovely hours

Of memory return

Like a field of ease

Among these graveled days.

May the Angel of Wisdom

Enter this ruin of absence

And guide your minds

To receive this bitter chalice

So that you do not damage yourselves

By attending only at the hungry altar

Of regret and anger and guilt.

May you be given some inkling

That there could be something else at work

And that what to you now seems

Dark, destructive, and forlorn,

Might be a destiny that looks different

From inside the eternal script.

May vision be granted to you

To see this with the eyes of providence.

May your loss become a sanctuary

Where new presence will dwell

To refine and enrich

The rest of your life

With courage and compassion.

And may your lost loved one

Enter into the beauty of eternal tranquillity,

In that place where there is no more sorrow

Or separation or mourning or tears.

FOR BROKEN TRUST

Sometimes there is an invisible raven

That will fly low to pierce the shell of trust

When it has been brought near to ground.

When he strikes, he breaks the faith of years

That had built quietly through the seasons

In the rhythm of tried and tested experience.

With one strike, the shelter is down

And the black yoke of truth turned false

Would poison the garden of memory.

Now the heart’s dream turns to requiem,

Offering itself a poultice of tears

To cleanse from loss what cannot be lost.

Through all the raw and awkward days,

Dignity will hold the heart to grace

Lest it squander its dream on a ghost.

Often torn ground is ideal for seed

That can root disappointment deep enough

To yield a harvest that cannot wither:

A deeper light to anoint the eyes,

Passion that opens wings in the heart,

A subtle radiance of countenance:

The soul ready for its true other.

FOR THE BREAKUP OF A RELATIONSHIP

Now you endeavor

To gather yourself

And withdraw in slow

Animal woundedness

From love turned sour and ungentle.

When we love, the depth in us

Trusts itself forward until

The empty space between

Becomes gradually woven

Into an embrace where longing

Can close its weary eyes.

Love can seldom end clean;

For all the tissue is torn

And each lover turned stranger

Is dropped into a ruin of distance

Where emptiness is young and fierce.

Time becomes strange and slipshod;

It mixes memories that felt

The kiss of the eternal

With the blistering hurt of now.

Unknown to themselves,

Certain small things

Touch nerve-lines to the heart

And bring back with color and force

All that is utterly lost.

This is the time to be slow,

Lie low to the wall

Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let

The wire brush of doubt

Scrape from your heart

All sense of yourself

And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,

Time will come good;

And you will find your feet

Again on fresh pastures of promise,

Where the air will be kind

And blushed with beginning.

FOR RETIREMENT

This is where your life has arrived,

After all the years of effort and toil;

Look back with graciousness and thanks

On all your great and quiet achievements.

You stand on the shore of new invitation

To open your life to what is left undone;

Let your heart enjoy a different rhythm

When drawn to the wonder of other horizons.