I’ll be your hearth, your welcome home,
your trusted secret-hearer —
your witness and your mirror.
This door may stand familiar,
but it’s not the destination.
The journey starts anew with each
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.
2018 Mary Boren
Revisiting a 2014 poem originally written in free verse.
View discussion on this one.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
Malevolence concealed in shadow waits
for optimal excuse to storm the gates
when every guardian of night has fled
and left no vestige of the light they shed
across the peaceful courtyard love creates.
A solitary candle flame abates
the siege as amity illuminates
the calculating coward that propels
No other coalescence separates
abiding love from hate that cultivates
chaotic storms within the citadels
like unity of purpose that expels
unwanted dispositions and negates
Mary Boren, 2018
Public Domain Picture
View discussion on this poem.
If I could wield a monumental can
of Oops! and travel back through space and time,
I’d circle ’round the sun like Superman
obliterating planetary slime.
I’d wipe the stain from any human heart
that ever felt unworthiness and shame
and wash the tongues of any taking part
in propagating hatred in God’s name.
The odious graffiti on the wall
would melt away and metamorph into
the artistry of nature over all;
an unpolluted, unifying view.
And after false perception is destroyed,
I’d hurl the dirty rag into the void.
Mary Boren, 2017
I am your wife, unwavering
and welcome home.
This door is not the destination;
it is the journey
that begins anew
with each re-entry
from rock-strewn paths
and ecstatic escapades
that bring us mindfully
into the Gift of Presence.
You are the air I breathe
in the unrelenting
Realm of Reason
where metaphor melds
for I can be neither
better half nor weaker half
or, for that matter,
when the fullness of union
suffers no halves.
I stand before you whole
with all my battered luggage
and labeled “Ours.”
Mary Boren, 2014
“We’re all just walking each other home.” -Ram Dass
We are fashioned of starlight and moondust,
with each particle numbered and weighed
in the heart of Creation’s unwavering flow
where the substance of everything’s made.
Then we’re hurtled unborn through the cosmos
to be nurtured and challenged and taught,
with our origin mostly forgotten except
when ethereal whispers are caught.
We experience natural beauty
tinged with sorrow and pain as we burn
with unquenchable passion for clues to explain
our existence. We long to return.
But that glorious lightness of being
in the lap of eternity’s source,
is reserved for escape from the passage of time
with a watchful, benevolent force.
If a tiger jumps out of the jungle,
or a bear charges out of the blue,
or a mugger gives chase down a dark city street,
they’re just doing what animals do.
I will not live in fear for my safety
or let cruelty alter my pace.
There’s a balance in nature that cradles us all
on this rock in the vastness of space.
Whether fluttering, tethered in tandem,
or with feet planted firm in the loam,
I am here with my brothers and sisters for now,
and we’re walking each other back home.
Mary Boren, 2014
Pompous politicians yammer,
pundits propagate the threat.
Trolls and bloggers join the clamor
spread across the Internet.
News reports reflect an image
of a nation on the brink,
polarized and poised to scrimmage.
People, stop. Be still and think.
Some are healthier than others,
some are wracked by pain or greed.
All are born of human mothers,
longing for the peace we need.
Can’t we learn to share the planet,
set aside the plots and ploys?
Stifle fearful hate — don’t fan it —
filter out the surface noise.
We the People, friends and neighbors,
sisters, brothers, husbands, wives,
quietly attend our labors
leading ordinary lives.
Bonded by conciliation,
we can raise a voice that’s strong,
blessed beyond imagination,
if we simply get along.
Mary Boren, 2012
If I were you and you were me
I wonder if our selves would be
as predisposed to this degree
of enmity, our enmity.
And if the pair of us should find
a union of divided mind,
together might we be inclined
to lead the blind? We’d lead the blind.
Soon everyone could be immersed
in friendship, evenly dispersed
across the globe with roles reversed:
Each other first, all others first.
Imagine such esprit de corps
resulting from two hearts’ rapport:
a world where selfishness and war
would be no more, would be no more.
Mary Boren, 2010
The verse form is called monotetra.