I WAS A NICE BLUE SAIL

 

I had 10 letters.

But they said, “Get 21 letters.”

So I got 21 letters.

Then I said, “Let’s write sentences.”

So we wrote sentences.

And I was thinking

About how much potential

21 letters have

And all the possible combinations

21 letters can make.

But I couldn’t write anything.

And I was watching to see

Because I wanted to know

What they would write.

And all the while

I was still thinking about

The potential therein

Not of the 21 letters

But of the heart and soul and mind

And the fact that

Something as simple as 21 letters

Would have to suffice

To share something so abstract

As my love

For God.

But I couldn’t write anything.

For it was apparent to me

That I had gotten all of the wrong letters.

I suppose they had too

Because they reached into the pile

And turned over every letter

One by one

And then laid the letters back down

Upside-down

When they were not the right letter

Until finally they had all of the letters.

But I couldn’t write anything.

And we laughed

Because they had all of my letters.

I said, “Can I have that L?”

And they said, “Maybe, eventually.”

I said, “Should I hold my breath?”

And they said, “You might be holding it for a long time.”

I said, “That’s all right, I can hold my breath forever.”

And I couldn’t write anything

Except:

I was a nice blue sail.

THE WEIGHT OF A WORD

 

“What is the weight of a word?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking…” he said.

“Stop.”

“If a picture is worth a thousand words,

Then how much weight could one word possibly have?”

“I don’t know.”

“I was thinking…” he said.

“Stop.”

“If it is not what enters into the mouth that defiles a man,

But what proceeds out of the mouth that defiles a man,

Then perhaps a word has greater weight than first thought.”

“Perhaps it is not the weight of a word that should concern you,

But the weight of the heart from which the word proceeds.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“So, what is the weight of a heart?”

“Do you have 499 pictures in which you are laughing?” he said.

“No.”

“Do you have 499 pictures in which you are crying?”

“No.”

“Do you have one picture in which your smile

Can truly convey your love?”

“No.”

“Do you have one picture in which the blind

Can truly see your beauty?”

“Why?”

“Because, if not, we know that the heart

Is worth far more than a thousand pictures;

For in a picture, light is reflected off of every

Surface and feature

And the wavelength that is reflected

Is the color we see with our eyes,

But in the hearts of men

There is either Light

Or there is darkness.”

“And?”

“And I was thinking…

PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS

 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Quarter?”

“I only have a penny.”

“But I can’t do my laundry with only a penny.”

“Laundry?”

“Yes, laundry.”

“All I wanted to know was your thoughts.”

“Yes, I know.”

“So, will you take a penny for them?”

“What about my laundry?”

“What about your laundry?”

“All right, give me the penny.”

“So, your thoughts?”

“From what point in time do you wish to know my thoughts?”

“When the music was playing.”

“Music was playing several times today.”

“When the piano was playing.”

“The piano was playing several times today.”

“The last time the piano was playing.”

“O, that’s easy…”

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking the same thing I was thinking all day…”

“What?”

“I was thinking that God is even in the tune of a piano.”

“Oh.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Quarter?”

“I only have a penny.”

CHAIN OF CAUSATION

 

Avicenna says that if the sun

Were the basis of its own illumination

Then all things which receive its illumination

Receive it accidently.

However, the illumination of the sun

Is not the cause of itself

(Or it is not a Necessary Existent)

Because it has a subject

And as such

It has a cause.

The same notion can be applied to sound

Because it has a cause

Therefore it cannot be the cause of itself.

Accordingly, contingencies either return to a primary cause

Or they return to themselves

In a circular chain of causation.

 

Likewise, the illumination

Which came in the door with me

Also returned back out the door;

Likewise, the beautiful sound

Of the piano

Ran through me and then returned to the keys;

Likewise, I ran through the illumination and the sound

And then returned back out the door.

Though one thing nullifies the analogy:

When I return to You,

Oh, Lord,

I will remember the beauty

I ran through

And especially the beauty

I walked with.

MELODY OF THE HEART

 

It’s like when an old woman

Plays chess

And even when she is concentrating deeply

Her wrinkles turn upward like

A thousand little smiles.

 

“Do you know that I love you?”

He asked them.

And he made sure he waited until

Their backs were turned.

 

It’s like when an old man

Swing dances

And even when he is moving slowly

His joyful eyes reminisce of

His glory days.

 

“It is good,” he said,

When he meant “beautiful,”

For they were smiling and laughing

And it was all rather unfamiliar to him.

 

It’s like when a young child

Giggles uncontrollably

And even when what was funny is gone

She is completely unaware

In the magic of her wonderland.

 

“Will you play the song just one more time?”

He asked. I wish you would, he thought,

Because even love seems lonely,

Except in melody.

 

They played one more fleeting note in to that night.

ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD

 

Shall I prove Your existence,

Therefore,

Based on the unchanging rationality of

Numbers?

Shall I enter the gates of heaven

With an abacus

Like those who would go about counting my good

And bad deeds

So as to measure my karma

And predict the outcome of my next life?

Say I live my entire life beyond

The box they put me in to

And commit no deed,

Good or evil,

Which they understand,

Therefore rendering

The abacus

Impotent.

Likewise,

Before You,

I shall bring no abacus;

For I understand the unchanging

Truth

Of numbers;

Yet Your

Truth

Is uncountable.

Shall I count my faith?

Shall I count my love?

For these things are beyond reason

And therefore beyond man.

You are beyond my reason

My wisdom

My existence, life, and understanding;

You meet me in my faith

And in all my senses

I cannot see, hear, smell, taste, or touch

You;

In all my senses

Apportioned from Your

Love;

In all my reason

I cannot reason with love;

Therefore, it is that which I shall bring

Before You in heaven;

Because I am too small

To bear it alone.

HE LOVED TO SLEEP BENEATH THE STARS

 

“Can I tell you something?”

He said.

“No,”

They said.

And he said,

“Oh.”

And he wasn’t so hurt

Because at least

They had answered him

And he sat quietly,

Then,

For as long as he was allowed

Because at least

He could see the way

They smiled

Like the family of stars

In the sky.

THE METAPHOR OF THE APPLE

 

I don’t remember why he said it;

I don’t even know why he thought it;

I was listening at first

And then laughing

Having nothing better to do

That was sufficient

When he compared me to an apple.

Well, the core of an apple, to be exact.

“Get past the skin,”

He said,

“And the apple is good,

And the core,

WOW!”

He says.

Of course, it is easier to laugh

Because otherwise

I have to realize

That no one

Has ever had

So much faith in me.

THE WOODEN SWING

 

As a child

In my mind

I saw the wooden swing

Hanging by two ropes

From the high branches

Of a great oak tree

And I knew it when I saw it

Because of the way the children

Laughed and played

And the way she lifted them

On to the swing

When they couldn’t reach

And the way the swing swung

Back and forth

Though the children couldn’t swing it

Because everyone was there

To swing the swing

For them.