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!
“There is in all visible things – a hidden wholeness.” -Thomas Merton
I harbored thoughts of insufficiency
induced by a pervasive sense of lack
through tunnels where I didn’t wish to be.
I plodded on for fear of turning back.
Then suddenly my world turned topsy turvy
and, squeezed between avoidance and relief,
I stepped into the whirlwind, wild and swervy,
and there I glimpsed a scene beyond belief.
Without a map, a compass, or a chart,
I crawled on hands and bloody knees to find
the truth already written on my heart,
the best-kept secret known to humankind:
The universe is infinitely less
concerned with our perception of its laws
than we ourselves. It simply seeks to bless
abundantly, oblivious to flaws.
If only we could hold ourselves in view
as we exist in oneness, bathed in light,
with undiminished dazzle breaking through
the veil, we’d rise undaunted past its height.
2011 Mary Boren
A tally of predicaments could wrap around the block.
The kids need shoes; the bill collector’s calling.
Politisquabbles dominate the news at 6 o’clock.
Relax, the sky is probably not falling.
The pundits paint a bleak scenario. Predictions seem
convincing in their repetitious drumming,
but to the watchers waking from a bad collective dream,
one thing alone is certain: Change is coming.
More likely what we’re feeling is a planetary jerk
produced by waves of panic. But, believe it
or not, a proven principle is steadily at work:
The world’s as good or bad as you perceive it.
So when you’re pecking for a meal on ground that’s parched and hard,
and hear the sound of thunderclouds advancing,
take heart. Don’t blindly string along with chickens from the yard
to hunker in the coop. Look up! Start dancing!
Perhaps the slurpy spectacle as optimists cavort
in mud could set a brighter course. Thank heaven
our future’s not determined by the 6 o’clock report.
“America’s Got Talent” airs at seven.
2008 Mary Boren