Ephemeral

If you remember me when I am gone
with any sense of clarity, ignore
the critic in the shadows who has drawn
impressions from an outline on the floor.

I never fit within the chalky bounds
of others’ expectations. Still, I tried,
until I was awakened to the sounds
of omnipresent promise amplified.

So when you picture me inside your head,
unhampered by the superficial sphere,
behold a ball of energy that shed
the cover humans wear when we are here.

And soon, in less than one eternal minute,
a burst of light will follow. You’ll be in it!

===
cc-by-nc-nd Mary Boren, 2017

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Make Me

girl on track

Unjustly scorned, I fancied self-control
could somehow keep misunderstanding’s reign
from drowning out the music in my soul.
I’d only march along the sunlit lane
and never have to stumble, stoop, or bend.

The lessons in the dense and tangled brush
are difficult — who’d willingly extend
the season of their sorrows? I would rush,
but Father, keep me here until You’re through.
For laughter fades, and all is vanity
that doesn’t help produce a servant who
surrenders everything unselfishly.

It’s not the celebration, it’s the loss
that draws me to the shadow of the Cross.

 

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2003

No Small Miracle

butterfly

Inherent in The Mystery that sketched
the universe is Consciousness, a mind
so boundless as to cross a chasm stretched
through time and space eternal, yet refined
enough to make a snowflake. As the blind
and crippled beggar huddled by the gate
of old Jerusalem, his faith aligned
with mercy in the power to co-create
a healing flow. Today, when you began
to bristle, then decided not to sit
in judgment after all, forgiveness ran
the course; benevolence flew over it.
In each embodiment of thought that spurs
a change of heart, a miracle occurs.

———

cc-by-nc-nd Mary Boren, 2005

Lessons Learned in the Dark

candles

I. Surrender

“What doesn’t kill you strengthens you.”
Perhaps, for those whose goal
is tyranny, pain’s wielded like a sword.
But, on a gentler parallel,
it binds me to the whole,
exposing all my weakness. Pain’s a cord.

I seek, instead, experience
that empties all I am
(assuming, first, the Self is mine to yield)
into the flowing Mystery
that breaks this human dam
of fear and spills across the open field.

If I, in passing circumstance,
can catch the cresting flow
of consummate compassion, may I give
the trapped debris that barred me from
the current to the foe …
for only in surrender can I live.

II. Forgiveness

I won the battle; lost the war.
You’re not my enemy.
At last, I wonder what has been attained,
and how much love was squandered in
the time it took to see
Fear’s alter ego, Arrogance, restrained.

What is it that entitles me
to fancy I can judge
another’s heart? I don’t know where it’s been,
or how the blanket wrapped around
that soul got stained with sludge,
or what’s been siphoned out or ladled in.

For hollow is the victory
where fractured dreams occurred —
those clanking bones that muster to defend
the id. They quell the music of
an understanding word
that might repair the rift and save the friend.

III. Gratitude

“In everything, give thanks.” It’s not
a sugar-coated bite
of Pollyanna platitude. For me,
it keeps the heart attentive to
those blessings wrapped in light
the universe bestows abundantly.

But what about adversity —
the unrelenting sigh
of disappointments, illnesses, and tears?
A butterfly emerging from
its chrysalis would die
but for the struggle. Workouts bridle fears.

So, mindful in expressing praise,
rejoicing in each thing
synonymous with good, I must include
unanswered prayer, the harbinger
of transformation’s sting.
It’s unconditional, this gratitude.

———

cc-by-nc-nd Mary Boren, 2003-5

Chances & Choices

pages-flutter

From the fathomless profoundness
of ethereal expression
in the chronicles of knowledge,
one by one, the leaves are torn.
In the guise of mewling beings
fraught with questions and conundrums,
pages flutter. All the answers
are forgotten when we’re born.

We endure the transformation
through the passage of illusion
as embodied bits of wisdom
disconnected from the whole,
for our singular assignment
in this realm of bounds and borders
is to reassert the message
that is written on each soul.

Life presents us with its lessons
in apparent chances – choices
rife with symmetry and purpose,
comprehensive yet concise,
’til by boon or lucky blunder
or relentless repetition,
we perceive that pain and pleasure
are as temporal as ice.

But as ice returns to water
which, on warming, forms a vapor,
we’re reminded of the substance
of creation: Eden’s mist
emanates across the ages
through the veil of incoherence
where, with passing recognition,
flesh and spirit coexist.

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2005