The Best I Have - Eric Shaffer

LET GO

If you let go of everything,
You will never be poor again
Because poverty is grasping at what you can’t have.
Release needing.
Cast aside wanting.
Embrace the inner abundance
You were born with.
Stop losing things.
Start letting them go.
Drop your baggage,
Check your coat,
Break your bonds,
Peel off your clothes,
And shed your skin
Until you have nothing left
Except your
Bald eyes
Bare lips
Naked spirit,
Stripped of all pretense,
Unowned and unowning,
Alone...and free
The way we all enter and exit this world
And then...
Let yourself die
To everything that constrains you
And rebirth yourself.

Danilee

 

CONRAD UNDERSTANDS DEATH

Conrad wanted to know about Death

It was the foremost thought in his mind

When he met a stranger the first thing he would ask them was

"Can I kill you?"

Invariably the answer was

"No"

Most of Conrad's relationships were brief

When he came to visit Mother would pull us close

When he left she would relax

Conrad did not care much for appearances

His beard and hair grew very long

His clothing wore threadbare and smelt unwashed

Conrad could have been a guru

His conversation focused solely on ending life

Not his own life

He quite liked being alive

"If I kill you" he would suggest "you could come back and tell me what it's like"

No-one wanted to die for Conrad

One day Conrad came to visit

This time he brought his rifle

Mother pushed me out of sight

The gun fired as Father and a friend wrestled it from his hands

The bullet hole in the wall would become a future conversation piece

Everyone sat down with a cup of tea

Father tried again to explain to Conrad

You cannot kill someone just to find out about Death

Mother cried and shouted

Conrad didn't come to visit any more

Conrad killed himself by walking into the sea

He never came back to tell us what it was like.

l-j stockman

 

REBIRTH
Poem written from a posted "diary" entry by Shannon

Green today
Percolating with
Chlorophyll and life

The shade as intense
As a dream

Clouds
Pregnant
Swollen
And varicose
With rain

I reach out
Touch the smooth
Texture
Your memory
A tree I stand by
With love and reverence

I take the letters
My name
Throw their song
To the wind

Who have I become

I touch my new skin
And meet
A ghost
On the highway

I feel you watching
Over me
And have
A reason to dream

I call the rain
To filter
Your memory

Each bit of green
I remember
Alive and growing

I know medicine
Flows in each plant
And smiles
At me
And I see
Your face

Z. Guadamour