I have never been 

accounted wise,

rarely handsome,

seldom good--

all those virtues

given at an

unremembered time--

though when you

chose to answer

to what you saw

in me then and now,

I choose to answer to

"blessed."

Honouring

 The letter arrived yesterday,

only an address to and from,

the writer acknowledging

we did not know each other,

so to him I was "Neighbour,"

and he an adherent 

of a certain faith.

 

Did I know, he asked,

who controls the world?

With a tract and a Biblical reference,

we clearly disagreed,

though he does not yet know that.

 

It would be too easy to 

dismiss him in a dozen different ways,

shred his Biblical understandings,

but the painstakingly hand-printed letter,

with an error or two crossed out,

his manifest sincerity and desire

that one more soul not be lost to Evil,

invites--compassion? maybe that's

patronizing--at least the quiet

setting aside of letter and intent 

and maybe a prayer of thanks

for his caring.

Maybe one of his other letters

has provoked a reply.

Maybe only the silence

of unsent mail.

Bear Country

Opening the car door,

I felt eyes on me.

Black bear, perhaps

sniffing the takeout.

We gazed at each other

for maybe count of ten.

Shrug.

I walked to the doorway.

She bolted into the bush,

two little cubs following. 

 

I wonder how hungry

they were. 

November, 2013

 

At the Humanitarian Gate, 

Bethlehem, Palestine

 

Sometimes, it, too, shuts down.

We ask the guard at the shack

that it be opened again.

Most of the time, it is.

I have seen a father

carrying a child

who is pale and feverish,

the father waving his permit

to go through the gate,

trying his best not to look

as worried as he feels.

If the gate stays shut,

we phone the Humanitarian Hotline.

If they answer, which is not always,

they may or may not try

to get the gate to reopen.

Sometimes, they are

ignored altogether—

it is the Israeli governance

that operates the checkpoint,

answerable only to themselves.

It is a strange, opening-up feeling

to get through the first turnstile,

to cross the tarmac and

to enter the second building

beneath the setting moon.

A sign in Hebrew, Arabic and English

instructs those going through

to the other building to be prepared

to remove all metal items

from their person (e. g; belts),

remove jackets, etc.

The sign ends,

"May you leave in peace

and return in peace."

A Moment

 Forest through 

the window

gazed upon 

as upon

sleeping lover--

bewildered

gratitude

Hmmm

 Never write poetry

when drunk, 

or propose marriage

after sex,

all those life events

demanding prudence, 

who hides 

behind desire

Morning haiku1

                                        fire encircled: first stories,

                                        syllable expresses epic

                                        miracle of utterance