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Linda Pahl May 2014
This is not
the age of information.

This is not
the age of information.

Forget the news,
and the radio,
and the blurred screen.

This is the time
of loaves
and fishes.

People are hungry
and one good word is bread
for a thousand.

  -- David Whyte
      from The House of Belonging
     ©1996 Many Rivers Press
Linda Pahl May 2014
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

  -- David Whyte
      from Everything is Waiting for You
     ©2003 Many Rivers Press
  May 2014 Linda Pahl
esi
his words left her so fragile
in this horrible world
she got curled up
into her mind
and it caused
her to go blind
  May 2014 Linda Pahl
Jack
~

Desperate on this darkest star
In stagnant air to breathe
Jagged reach of tended far
So much I can’t believe

A’ chained upon the barricade
Locked this welded form
Broken of mistakes I’ve made
Waiting on the storm

As here upon my knees I weep
Head within my hands
Crying tears forever keep
Aside from promised plans

My heart now sliced in silent view
The end beckons me home
This which I have done to you
My life it sits alone

Shadows hung on shouldered fall
Mud encrusts my feet
Pain besets this lonely call
As endless sorrows seep

“I’m sorry”, echoes in my head
Engulfed in rhythm’d flow
Offered of a broken man
Who prays for you to know

Pleadings from this sectioned seat
I beg with all I am
Calling out in sad repeat
This empty place I stand

I ask for your forgiveness
Myself I can’t forgive
This punishment lies endless
Of fractured days I live

The pain is ever coming
Though nothing I shall share
I face the sun so stunning
In hopes that you are there

But still the time is passing
Sand in glass does fall
Desolate amassing
And I deserve it all
  May 2014 Linda Pahl
unwritten
perhaps i make
too many metaphors
about the ocean.

but i can't help
but compare you to a wave,

for each time i've almost got you,
you recede back to whence you came,

into the tide.

(a.m.)
late night thoughts...
  May 2014 Linda Pahl
Lexie
I refuse to let go
Of the dark cliff
Before the sun rises
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