Wishes for the good traveler.

April 29, 2013 § 2 Comments

For a venturing soul I love very dearly,
and all the others who journey alongside.

If each day is a step within
a journey, long and true:
Then, as you go,
good traveler,
I wish these things for you:

A wishing well at every stop,
at every stall and stay,
to hold your cheer,
to stave despair
and parchedness away.

A precipice to venture up;
a trail to test your mettle;
a thousand thorns
to make you strong
and flowers to make you gentle.

A vision of your noblest self
to haunt your dreamer’s heart,
that you might strive,
against the throng,
to set yourself apart.

And outlooks grand to ground you –
that, from a bright plateau,
you recognize
how far you’ve come,
how far you yet can go.

May birdsong bless your wanderings
through desert, fjord, and vale;
may every path
deliver you
to welcome and a tale.

May Earth on her round table spread,
in her abundant manner,
all vibrant, rare
and wholesome fare:
nectar, spice, and manna.

I hope each day above your head
God paints a splendid sky;
a backdrop brave
to vivify
your worn and searching eye.

May sunlight bathe and kiss your skin
and trumpet you along;
and when the stars
bedeck the sky,
may you imbibe their song.

And if, in some uncertain hour,
a tremor fills your soul–
a darkened shroud
puts confidence
and calm past your control,

I hope you find your faith in God;
that, pouring from above,
you feel the peace
that emanates
from His enduring love.

And as around this world you weave
a web of your goodwill,
I hope you find
yourself enmeshed
in something worthier still;

That your untiring spirit draws
dear friends to share your burden;
and a happy step
in sync with yours –
Love’s sweet grace and guerdon.

So kindle hope within your heart,
its pure, undying ember.
Do right, fear not.
Be chivalrous.
And if you can, remember:

If you will reach, wherever you are,
as our two paths unfold,
my well is deep
enough for two;
my hand is yours to hold.



A Question of Fate

April 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

She prayed for a sign: she said,
“Be explicit with me, Heaven.
White flowers if for hope,
red flowers for a stop.”

But she wandered off the path that day
wherever she glimpsed
snowdrops or daisies
or lilies of the valley;

and she veered away
from the strange veiled women
who wandered the streets
surprising passers-by
by handing them red roses.


Precept Three: Legacy

April 4, 2013 § Leave a comment

She wants it to be said of her
when she goes,
that she lived a life
ruled by grace.

Chasing grace,
chasing light.

Precept Two: Merit

April 3, 2013 § Leave a comment

The thing is, I suppose,
to live a life worthy
of the love you hope you fill it with.

Just to Bless the Morning

March 31, 2013 § 3 Comments

This Lent held a succession of heartbreaks and disillusionments for me. It was the end of an epoch, the revisioning of visions I’ve held dearly and long. It’s true that real life hits suddenly and all at once — and regrouping feels so dramatic, even when you have a little voice inside to chide you with perspective.

I came here trying to be bold and strong and unstoppable, but what I’ve found in this first month is that I’m a mess of dreams and doubts, held together by friendship and love and little graces. I’m shadowed in the wake of this by thoughts of my personal legend, and the idea that daydreams are done and destiny is at hand, if I will step into it now. I’m trying to trust myself so I will know how to live.


I have a new favorite song by one Ben Howard, called “Old Pine”. The chorus goes like this:

And we stood steady as the stars in the wood
So happy-hearted, and the warmth rang true inside these bones
As the old pine fell, we sang
just to bless the morning.

I listened to it today as I walked to Sankt Hedwigs Kathedrale for Easter Mass. I went there in the hope of hearing familiar hymns and feeling a bit more at home. I was intimidated by spending this holiday away from family — even in the States, I just want to be home for Easter.

I realized that what touches me most about holidays is their generationality. They remind me always of things that endure — of wheels that turned before I had a heart to ache within me, that will keep turning long after my heart can ache no more. They remind me that the best we can do is to offer up our hearts in all love, so we can ride the wheels and not be crushed by them.

On my walk there were babies dolled up in their strollers and old folks in their finery. There was sunlight on my cheekbone, snowflakes on my brow. A willow tree soft and yellow over the slate grey Spree. Spring is in our midst, even if winter lingers.

I took this in and the began to cry when the chorus of this song began to play. It was a wave of homesickness (for Tigger, for people, for time) — but also a wave of gratitude for the sun and the snow, for Easter and the good and beautiful things that endure amidst heartache and disillusionment. For the love that holds us steady and rings true inside our bones, even when the rest is obscured. The old pine can fall, and we can still sing — just for the grace of morning.

Precept One: Outlook.

December 19, 2012 § 3 Comments

“Just be on the lookout,” she said,
“and life is always beautiful.”

“Even oil slicks
in puddles on the pavement

in the right light
look like fairy wings.”

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