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I wrote this poem in my journal on Sunday and discovered this morning that a former student died suddenly yesterday. I offer this here in honor of Rob and for all those who are grieving for a multitude of losses: ___________________________________________ *** Let it Be Winter Still Let it be winter a while longer, Let darkness be my closest companion cradling me in her inky velvet shawl. Let the owl cry softly from his place among the long aching branches, under the bone-white face of the moon. Let my heart break for the dead in Haiti, buried under collapsed stone
(Photo taken in Squamish, BC – quote discovered while on pilgrimage) * Crossing the Threshold: New Year, New Beginnings will be available early next week – order your copies for holiday gifts today! * © Christine Valters Paintner at Abbey of the Arts: Transformative Living through Contemplative & Expressive Arts
As I began this year I had an encounter with a flock of pigeons which lifted my heart unexpectedly and then I found a feather on my doorstep. And so “Taking Flight” became my image for the year ahead. On my recent pilgrimage, winged ones – both avian and angelic – were significant symbols for me, appearing to me constantly during my travels and reminding me of that heart-transcending moment months before. The crow in particular became significant. I have always loved these black “glossy and rowdy” creatures, and since moving to Seattle over six years ago I have become
On Prayer You ask me how to pray to someone who is not. All I know is that prayer constructs a velvet bridge And walking it we are aloft, as on a springboard, Above landscapes the color of ripe gold Transformed by a magic stopping of the sun. That bridge leads to the shore of Reversal Where everything is just the opposite and the word ‘is’ Unveils a meaning we hardly envisioned. Notice: I say we; there, every one, separately, Feels compassion for others entangled in the flesh And knows that if there is no other shore We will walk
Happy 15th Anniversary my Love! Take it away Pablo . . . ______ Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because — because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me, choking my lost heart. Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the
