Listening to the heart

What would you have me say?

I am the space that holds everything
the silence in which words
are no longer necessary.

I am the breath that
breathes all life.

If you deny me
I am cold, hard, frozen.

If you allow me
I am open, loving, generous.

I am the vitality
that animates all beings.

I am water washing away
all meanness and harshness.

I am fresh rain providing clarity
sweeping away dullness.

I am the place you go to be truly alone,
truly at one, without any external stimuli.

I am your home
your place of rest
the voice of reason and wisdom.

If you deny me
I am cold, hard, frozen.

If you allow me
I am open, loving, generous.

I am the silence in which words
are no longer necessary.

© 14 Dec 14

Two perspectives

The mind runs wild
telling stories
getting carried away.

The heart simply
reflects what is.

The mind imagines
the worst
creates fearful scenarios.

The heart gently smiles
words of encouragement.

The mind eloquently creates
disasters that never happen.

The heart soothes the fear
calms the nerves.

The mind is weighted down
with sadness, sorrows, grief.

The heart embraces all emotions
touches the dimension of
no coming, no going,
no birth, no death.

The heart does not dismiss
changing emotions
holds them lightly
sees them as insubstantial
as shifting air.

The heart shines out with
contentment, happiness, gratitude.

Listen to the heart.
© 5 Dec 14

Thay the bodhisattva

I see you depicted
with a thousand hands.

Here are your books
generously given
held in these hands.

Here is a flower
with a smile
at the centre of each
held in these hands.

A cup of tea
freshly squeezed
from a raincloud
held in these hands.

Next, a pebble
to teach the children
to meditate
held in these hands.

These hands
hold a match,
but where is the flame?

These hands
invite a bell
sending the universe resonating
with a song of love.

These hands
hold a candle
lighting the path of enlightenment
for those who dare.

These hands
embracing the baby seed of anger
soothing, comforting.

These hands
hold our hearts
nurturing each heartbeat with
a pulse of compassion.

These hands
are empty
free of all notions
all concepts.

These hands
hold other hands
hold infinite hands, interlacing
interbeing across the cosmos.

How many hands?
Infinite hands reaching
in the ten directions
touching every shimmering star
every leaf on every tree
every snowflake and raindrop
every sunbeam, every moonbeam
every heart
holding them all
letting them all go.

© 29 Nov 14

P.S. Very happy to share that this poem was read at the beginning of a Dharma talk given at Plum Village by one of the monks on Sunday 18th January 2015. You can view the talk here  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1nl-FO9yAk

Winter in my heart

Now it is winter in my heart
with no signs of spring
no clue of seeds safely nestled
in dark frost-hardened earth
waiting for warmth
to nurture their growth.

Though signs are bleak
in this season of winter and
everything appears to be dying
this is the in-breath
from which a fresh out-breath
will surely follow.

Everything is held
suspended
as if encased in ice
waiting for a touch of sun
which will surely follow.

A time of rest
of breath holding
before the burst of energy
which will surely follow.

Enjoy this fallow season
this time of slowing down
of nurturing.
This in-breath
from which a fresh out-breath
will surely follow.
© 30 Nov 14

Two birds

This bird’s song
is muted
by a cage
that is
too narrow
too small
too heavy
too dark.

This bird sings
sweetly
freely
echoing through
all the valleys
knowing
there is
no cage. 

© 23 Nov 14

I found a tiara

I found a tiara
A discarded tiara
or one being forged?
No human hands created these
fine gossamer threads
intricately woven together.
Only the most knowledgeable
could create such a delicate thing
bedecked with the finest
hand-picked diamonds,
glistening, reflecting.

Safely protected by
nestling holly leaves
waiting for an attendant
to collect the precious jewel.
A fitting gift for
the queen of the faeiries.
I shall sit quietly
waiting to see her pass by,
adorned in this beautiful tiara.
© 18 Nov 14

Nothing was moving

Nothing was moving
the wind had died down
barely a sound to be heard
except distantly
far off birds riding air currents
an occasional bleat of sheep
reminding we are in their territory
the wind was still
the sun was full.

Nothing was moving
the climb was over
we stood to watch
to look
to drink in magnificent
rolling undulations
to watch cloud shadows
slide across the
brackeny hillside.
© 10 Oct 14