Friday, August 16, 2013

Holy Ground

Sacredness is all around us.
Burning bushes litter our paths.
Holiness seeps in through every pore.

These are easy to see.

Discerning the Divine within
requires more experience.

1 comment:

Dr. Mike said...

Memories of Coal

The glow within each
Cinder block decompresses.
Trash bins smell of death.

Then what is left? Breath?
Lungs fill with ash, the tongue sours,
And hands blacken hands.

Warmth evaporates
Its fingerprints from the stove.
Home’s an empty crib.

Between distant stars
There’s only chill space. Nothing
Is inside nothing.

[Disposable Haiku August 16, 2013]
Dr. Mike