art Tomoko Koyama
Here I am,
a woman almost 90,
and still don't have
answers.
You would suppose
by now I would know the essentials,
who we are, where we came from,
what we are supposed to be doing
in our lives.
But I don't know
and don't know anyone
to ask.
When I draw my card
it is always blank.
When I write out my question,
it falls to the bottom
of the pile
and our time runs out.
Yet, today was like spring,
filtered sunlit joy
bathing us to gold
in the middle of winter.
And that music I listened to
this morning.
I hope to hear it again
in heaven.
Who am I
to insist on complete
explanations?
Why must I know
all about everything?
Blessings fall on me
like rain,
purple blossoms showering down
from loaded branches.
I know that I will
never think my way
to truth.
Whatever it is
it lives inside me,
speaks without words,
moves without motion.
The holy ones call it rapture.
I call it union,
when the Beloved arrives
and we are one.
Dorothy Walters
January 9, 2017
a woman almost 90,
and still don't have
answers.
You would suppose
by now I would know the essentials,
who we are, where we came from,
what we are supposed to be doing
in our lives.
But I don't know
and don't know anyone
to ask.
When I draw my card
it is always blank.
When I write out my question,
it falls to the bottom
of the pile
and our time runs out.
Yet, today was like spring,
filtered sunlit joy
bathing us to gold
in the middle of winter.
And that music I listened to
this morning.
I hope to hear it again
in heaven.
Who am I
to insist on complete
explanations?
Why must I know
all about everything?
Blessings fall on me
like rain,
purple blossoms showering down
from loaded branches.
I know that I will
never think my way
to truth.
Whatever it is
it lives inside me,
speaks without words,
moves without motion.
The holy ones call it rapture.
I call it union,
when the Beloved arrives
and we are one.
Dorothy Walters
January 9, 2017
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