Poetry
Poetry
Swaying
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 10/04/2015 - 19:57Too little sleep
and too much
cold and damp
has left me felling
rundown
vulnerable.
The car is acting up,
systems around the house
are not running
as smoothly
as should be
only adding
to the fatigue.
At church this morning
a baby cried
inconsolably.
She had just eaten
and probably needed to burp.
The mother rocked her
back and forth
patting her back
hoping to quiet her
though I doubt anyone
in the congregation minded.
I remembered
trying to comfort my daughters,
their heads on my shoulder
just above my heart,
swaying back and forth.
I found myself swaying
as we prayed
for the victims of shootings,
of floods,
of cancer,
of loneliness,
holding these people in my heart,
swaying.
Atonement
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Wed, 09/23/2015 - 12:11The fluffy small clouds
floated blissfully
in the crisp clear
autumn sky
as small birds
played
in the breezes.
“Who could not praise God
on a day like this?”
I thought to myself
as I approached
the cemetery
where a young mother
cried
over her son’s
grave.
But it wasn’t my son
or my fault.
Nearby, the birds sang joyfully
as they searched for food.
“I’m just living my life
as best I can”,
I thought to myself
as I pondered suffering.
“I don’t add to it,
do I?”
Sure, I’ve squabbled with friends,
causing them distress,
but not enough
to ruin a beautiful day?
I’ve benefited
from the circumstances of my birth.
Not deliberately, not consciously,
but certainly not enough
to contribute
to the death
of a young black man?
I’ve sought to send forth
tiny ripples of hope
but have I sent forth,
unaware,
greater ripples of hurt?
I ponder these things
on The Day of Atonement
and cry out
“Forgive me”
A little bird looks up at me
quizzically chirps
and now the bird is silent too.
Notes: I wrote this on Yom Kippur, 2015 as I contemplated my own unexplored faults. The "tiny ripples of hope" come from Robert Kennedy's great Ripple of Hope speech. "and now the bird is silent too" comes from the poem "Little Unwritten Book" by Charles Simic by way of a writers prompt where I was challenged to use that line (or a couple others) as the last line of a poem.
Less Quiet Desperation.
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Fri, 09/04/2015 - 20:17The masses of men lead lives of quiet desperation
except when
the demands of the day
of tasks to be done
exceeds the available time
and
the stress at the desk
exceeds our coping
Then, the desperation becomes less quiet.
The masses of men lead lives of quiet desperation
except when
friends bury their sons,
the homeless man
who seemed to be getting back on his feet
gets attacked outside the soup kitchen
and spends a month in the hospital
and victims of domestic violence
loose their children
to DCF
or their abusers.
Then, my soul cries out.
The masses of men lead lives of quiet desperation
except when
the time spent
caring for a loved one
leaves little time for self-care
and all that is left
is groans too deep for words.
And God says
“My Grace is sufficient”
as the 1% hoard the manna from above
leaving others.
hungry, struggling.
So, while dreams are on hold
because of daily life getting in the way
I will wait quietly on my Lord
with less quiet desperation.
Beach Worship
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 08/30/2015 - 08:24My Beloved gently runs His fingers through my hair
in the breeze on the beach
as He calls me
constantly
in the rumble of the waves.
Overhead,
the birds fly
like seraphim
proclaiming His Love.
I look to the sea -
His love is even more vast
than the endless horizon.
Yet there is a pile of bottles and cans
that someone has left in the sand
that need to be cleaned up.
Poem Fragments
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Tue, 08/25/2015 - 16:53The Perseids: A Guided Meditation
I started this back during the Perseids. I had ideas of where I wanted to go with it, but haven't had time to come back to it, So, here it is as is. Maybe I'll work on it more later.
Turn off the 42 inch meditation focal point,
the focal point with talking heads
that distract us from what matter,
the focal point that jerks your emotions
with bright flashes and loud explosions.
Sit on the porch, with your head tilted back
and choose a smaller focal point.
I like Marfak, Theta Cassiopeiae,
Cape Cod Pitch Pines
Likewise, I had originally thought of this as a longer piece. We'll see when I get back to it
The sunlight seeped through the pitch pines
above the warmed berries below
creating a dappled image that would flummox
even the most dedicated jigsaw puzzler.
