my feasting heart . . .

1385915381i0p98like butterfies battling the wind, these
the quiet afternoons pulsing peace,
Bach on the radio, sustenance simmering
on the stove of my tranquility, the days
chasing night, the nights chasing day,
rhythms caressing my face, love-bites
armouring the leg of my being, heart
beating at one with the sighing Pacific
and only gratitude for the gift of life,
no more scandalized by the news of
death, baptism into heaven, whatever
that means
, but the reports center on
confusion, Kiev, Syria, Afghanistan

easy to foment flash-points for horror,
even easier to forget just how sweet it is
to breathe with the moon and sun and
to grow with trees bending in the storms,
obeisance to the seas and sky and
living on the edge of eternity, time to
give it up, to give-up strife for lent . . .
to never pick it up again, moved only
by the gentle breeze of butterfly wings,
color and transport for my feasting heart

© 2014, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; photo courtesy of morgueFile

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4 thoughts on “my feasting heart . . .

  1. This is wonderful, Jamie. It speaks to my soul that has been aching over the anger and suffering in the world. I am a peacemaker and so enjoy all your words speak of. But I also resent being reminded of the pain and suffering going on in regions of the world that I (or we) have no control over. You give me a different perspective to think about.

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  2. It is hard to know when to foment and when to refocus– certainly we are lucky to have those choices on the one hand though we also have plenty to foment about close to home. A difficult balance that you describe with such grace. K.

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    1. Yes it is. After I wrote it, I thought too about the people having tough times in tough places and who can’t always speak for themselves. If we don’t speak for them, who will. Can’t stop caring, can we?

      Thanks, k, for the read and comement. Silly me. I seem to have posted this poem twice, each time with a different title. Yikes! 🙂

      Like

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