Quiet Canyon click to hear recording of poem
To sketch pain
through this poem
is not enough.
Yes, it may well be good
to be creative
with engulfing emotions
expressing through bold words
the subtleties of despair.
Yet, that is not enough.
For my own words
to help heal
my own afflicted heart
they must attempt to heal yours as well.
So, these words must be to you
as the spirit of a wild river,
for I know that to be healing,
sending you on buoyant images down
around the winding tree lined bank
towards the sea of some discovery.
Some eureka of insight
that perhaps will appear
around the next stanza.
Some epiphany however dim
that shines of spirit.
Spirit.
You remember.
That strength you keep coming back to
when illusions let you down
time and time again.
That very source of time itself
that you must honor with quiet mind
if you want to ride its wild beauty.
Quiet mind.
Destroying all illusions
that swim in darkened reservoirs of thought.
Quiet mind.
Tearing down damming addictions
and letting the river run
wild, free and vigorous
with a current that fills all emptiness
and heals all wounds.
Quiet mind.
Quiet canyon of the soul.