The Road Home

There is more to a word than the spelling,
neither future nor past in its tense,
and the story that grows in the telling
can jump over a pastoral fence
on the drive coming home. It’s compelling
in a deeper than physical sense.

When I think of the love that enfolds me
in the leap of a frolicsome pup
and the arms of a husband who holds me
like an obelisk propping me up,
there’s a presence that softens and molds me
to the shape of serenity’s cup.

From a window, the woodland is sounding
with the hush of an orderly mind.
In a natural rustic surrounding
there is space for the nerves to unwind
from the noise of a world that is pounding
the humanity out of mankind.

So the run-of-the-mill intersection
on the way to our humble abode
masquerades our affluent connection
to a heavenly area code
as it leads to supernal perfection
living large at a bend in the road.

o0o

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  2019 Mary Boren

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The the Base of the Tower

“Let no man pull you so low as to hate him.” -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Tyrants learn to climb a ladder
stepping on the hands below,
thinking status gained will matter
in a human puppet show.

Sycophants advance by reaching
wildly for the boots above,
spurred into a frenzy, screeching
epithets devoid of love.

Bullies on the ground are spreading
lies to bring the ladder down,
instigating chaos, shredding
decency from base to crown.

All of us approach the spire
bearing scars that touch the core;
none are standing any higher
than the people we abhor.

Marching next to truth revealers
labeled neither “Ours” nor “Theirs”,
let me be among the healers
on a stronger set of stairs.

o0o

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  2019 Mary Boren

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In the Silence

In the silence, coexistence
overcomes innate resistance
to denials that evade
Spirit, while its masquerade
chases bodily subsistence.

Synergetic intermissions
born of mystical omniscience
flourish as divisions fade
in the silence.

Buddhists, Humanists and Christians
meditating through the distance
bring a unified brigade
facing chaos unafraid,
seeking peace with calm persistence
in the silence.

o0o

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  2019 Mary Boren

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Choose Love

“We have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.” -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The lifeblood of the planet is in peril
of swift extinction by exsanguination
from injuries inflicted by the feral
barbarians attacking its foundation. 

Physicians for society have proffered
a proven remedy through mass injection
of Zenicillin. Hordes, instead, have coffered
an arsenal of hate to breed infection.

But deep within the body, organisms
are gathering in overwhelming numbers
to spread the needle’s healing for our schisms,
awakening compassion where it slumbers.

The power of love is dazzling when it stirs.
Don’t flee before the miracle occurs.

o0o

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  2019 Mary Boren

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Epiphany

Epiphany, that sacred day
the Magi’s beacon led the way
to witness royalty that lay
in Baby Jesu.

The virgin birth’s a fragile myth,
an ancient bulky monolith—
irrelevant—yet teeming with
epiphany.

For only when the trappings dim
can rebirth rise above the rim
of rigid views to welcome Him,
The Christ Within.

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  2019 Mary Boren

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America in the Mirror

We’re appalled in confronting the picture —
a reflection for too long denied —
of a country that’s spiraling swiftly
down the drain in its ethical slide.

As each visible blemish emerges
it uncovers what runs underneath
that’s more painful and deeply enduring
than the spinach between our front teeth.

We’ve been stripped of our make-believe mantle
in assuming an elegant pose,
for that arrogant profile’s now hidden
by the hideous wart on our nose.

What we fancied a flawless complexion
is revealed as a sallow facade
tinged with orange, an outbreak of acne
that is oozing infection abroad.

It’s a face only Mother could cherish,
overdue for a treatment to rout
every trace of disease and self-loathing.
We are one. “As within, so without.”

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  2019 Mary Boren

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Somebody Else’s Burden

The load that weighs you down with care
has sabotaged your inner peace;
its mass will steadily increase.
While staggering from here to there.
your steps are slowed, your back is bowed
because it isn’t yours to bear.
Cut loose and lovingly release
the load that weighs you down with care.

 

cc-by-nc-nd  2018 Mary Boren

 

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One (Redux)

 

I’ll be your hearth, your welcome home,
your trusted secret-hearer —
unwavering, conditionless,
your witness and your mirror.

This door may stand familiar,
but it’s not the destination.
The journey starts anew with each
repeated affirmation
to mindfully return into
the loving Gift of Presence
from every tempting escapade
that calls us from our essence.

For breathing one another’s air
beyond the realm of reason
where metaphor and matter meld
(if only for a season)
as better half or weaker half
at odds is lunacy.
Commitment in its fullness
summons vibrant unity.

And so I come before you whole
with all my baggage carried
across the threshold, labeled “Ours”,
unpacked … profoundly married.

 

cc-by-nc-nd  2018 Mary Boren

 

Revisiting a 2014 poem originally written in free verse.

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Descartes Before Dehorse

The mistress cracks a psychic whip, and he,
a blinder-fitted plodding workhorse bound
by honor, hopes to find a patch of ground
that won’t give way beneath his hoof. To be
or not to be, his sole identity
derives from someone leading him around
in circles, heaping judgment pound for pound
with unequivocating certainty.

He’d never think of putting up a fight,
for every time he jumps, she lifts the bar
to keep his motivation locked up tight,
convinced that it can never venture far
from her own brand of patent black-and-white
philosophy, “I think, therefore you are.”

 

cc-by-nc-nd  2001 Mary Boren

 

Photo Source

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Hummingbird

Hummingbird, you offer inspiration
fluttering your wings so tirelessly.
Any other creature in creation
can’t compare for diligent esprit.

Smallest of the species sporting feathers,
delicately colored, poised mid-air,
you are picturesque in form that weathers
all adversity, though unaware
how much you achieve by simply being.
Preening’s not your nature; you’re compelled
constantly to seek out food, foreseeing
fuel needs for energy expelled.

‘Til I learn to hover in the ether,
trusting there’s enough to fill my beak,
gliding on the currents underneath are
heaven’s gifts. You’ve given me a peek.

 

 

cc-by-nc-nd  2018 Mary Boren

 

Photo from the public domain

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