Poetry: Each Morning

CS Sherin and Gilbert (2 years old now) selfie, 2019.

Each Morning: The Unseen Blank Page

CS Sherin May 21, 2019

I awaken.
I arise
each morning.
We all do.
At first seeing,
what is not seen —
is the blank page.
Upon it are wisps,
remnants of elusive,
felt dreams from sleeping.
They haunt the unseen blank page
like vivid watercolor drops that fade
as they dry.
Each new day, when we arise,
pages have already been written…
in dreaming, and other days, and then
we awaken again upon a new page
where we write our lives
by living,
breathing and being.

Blinking eyes, happily taunt-stretched limbs,
the loud yawn of awakening, the guttural
bellow
of the flexed stomach releasing…

we may wake up with expectations and a schedule.
We may be woken up by interruptions and demands.
We may arise alone or crowded, or something in between…
and we may want it, or not want it.
We may wake up peaceful and content, afraid and
worried, or neutral, or excited, or confused.

Still
we wake up living
and so
we write upon the blank page
of morning.
Each blank page becomes filled
with feelings, thoughts, actions, words —
the seen and the unseen, and
by choice and by no-choice —
consciously and unconsciously.

For me, in the past year and three months,
ever since a kitten was unexpectedly adopted…
every morning, my blank page begins
with the most persistent shower of
warmth and affection —
a cuddle like no other on my tip-top upper area
of the chest
with a complete nuzzling-in of a little face
deep into my neck, where he
purrs… and then sleeps, if I let him there long enough.
He is soft as a marshmallow
and just as sweet.
He is a being who comes to me
like a patiently timed magnet
instantly attracted — upon my awakening.
I do not write this on my page exactly,
it is a repeating miracle shining upon me
by a little mysterious being
of love, brought here by
my life partner. So,
our pages can change in certain ways
that are beyond us alone.

This young cat’s constancy,
his persevering
affection and gratitude
changes
my page of awakening.
He softens and warms my voice
and has been applying a medicine to
my heart each morning
that it has not known in this way
and sorely needed at this time.
The unseen blank page and
what I write upon it
is up to me…
because it is me…
living and breathing. No one else
can actually write it. Though others
may influence and affect it.
A life partner doesn’t write my pages for me
but he writes beside me, and I with him.
We fall asleep holding hands, waking up
we are next to or near each other.
Yet, everyone too…
because everything
and everyone
are connected to all that is.
We are all connected. If I forget that…
my page can lose its strength.
And if I forget
that I am writing my own life by living it
and that no one else can…
then my page can lose its magic.
That has happened before.
That was
something I wrote on pages of my life
at one time. And…
it is not happening anymore.
Today
I am writing a poem,
as the silence holds
my breath, writing, and
being in spaciousness.
That, for now, is all there is
in this moment
upon the page.

There is one more thing to say
about
all of this…
shining sunshine upon others
may not write upon their pages
exactly, because it is our own pages we write on.
Yet, what it does, is it
uplifts and warms,
it comforts, relaxes, and inspires, and can
help to welcome in
all kinds of
goodness and healing.

CS Sherin, Wild Clover | WildClover.org 2019©


Poetry: Even In 1984 With Treason

CS Sherin
October 17, 2018
tinydaisylikeflowers_cssherin2018_wildclover.org copy
What gracious time is this

when I walk through air on

earth and swim through water

under the sky? What grace

filled time is this

where I am sheltered every night

surrounded by six other beings who

wish and show me only love, who

stand by me no matter the weather

or time?  What glorious synchronicities

are these that orchestrate order in spite of

chaos, beauty and kindness in spite of active

hatred, wild regenerative wellness in spite of

polluted toxic disease? What timeless peace within

is this that reverberates endlessly in the

midst of cacophonies of strife and unrest?

What beautiful mind-bending grace is this? –this

breath, this heart — the rhythm and song within

us? PurplePrairieFlowers_2018_CSSherin_wildclover.org copyWhat is this glorious triumph of love that

travels beyond atrocities, that has no rival–

unmeasured goodness surviving here,

beyond the vision and grasp of all the

twisted distortions that destroy, erase, consume,

and assimilate. It is the great mystery of

ultimate reality beyond this, yet it is evidenced

through and through. Just as we give up hope,

just as the darkness enfolds, just as the distortions

distort yet more, the day after, the breath after that,

PrairieFlowers2018_CSSherin_wildclover.org copythe morning after that, the week after that–woven

through everything, invisible yet ineffable,

indelible — Great presence endures — untraceable

even in the worst 1984 with treason.


CS Sherin, WildClover |WildClover.org 2018©


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