The Street Corner
Years we had looked
to find that place again.
We followed the music
of Spanish guitar
on the street
by the Jazz Club de Papa,
where once the city became
suddenly silent
and a sweet voice
sang a high and beautiful
Ave Maria
on the street corner of
St Benoit.
The Travellers
Each one of us
is a traveller
and often a wastrel,
with a soul like
a feather in the wind.
Winds blow it
mercilessly hard and cold
in furious storms without meaning
into thankless death.
Lead our souls like a feather in the wind
like a sheep and like a naïve lamb
led by a loving hand .
Its such a long way to go,
over the waters .
Thalassa, thalassa,
the wind blows ,
and we travel far
from the gentle start
in the morning.
We all have a choice to make
as we go .
“You have come down
now visible ,
Infinite and Eternal one
to conceal yourself
as the manifest force of nature
and to allow evil to have free reign
and to exist in this world ,
only to raise us high
and to test us to reveal ,
through your blowing
and changing winds ,
the traits of leadership
that you have given us,
and placed quietly within.
In your eternal will,
you wait patiently
to spring out
and fulfill . “ * *Kabbalistic Prayer
From “Dreams for a Saturday Morning” by PWChaltas
The Book
He spoke from within his sadness and regret .Was it too late? His wisdom could not save himas his father’s Faith and Humility had .After all his father had known glory but also knew blood and death .His father had been humbled and suffered torments and regret earlier in his life .He had been betrayed and judged by men and women ,even friends and servants .He suffered greatly and clung to his faith to save himself from drowning in his own tears .His father’s plate was a constant battle sustained by faith ,repentance and humility .The son knew now of himself,
that he had been imperfectly born .He had lived his life in glory, building, with little suffering. He had judged many, and now late in life realized that he had been lead astray by ease and wealth , by so many different perfumed charms and whispers. Defeated and weakened by his own power he realizes those few first stray steps have lead him so far away, and that it is such a long journey back now, in light that has grown very dim . He speaks pearls of wisdom for willing ears :
“Remove from me vanity and lies. Give me neither poverty or riches
Feed me with food convenient for me lest I be full and say: ” Who is the Lord ” or lest I be poor and steal and take the name of the Lord in vain” ****
“A good name Is better than precious ointment ; And the day of death is better than the day of oneʼs birth . It is better to go to the house of mourning , than to go to the house of feasting :
for that is the end of all and the living will lay it to heart . Sorrow is better than laughter: for by sadness of the countenance the heart is made better . The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth” ***
***Ecclesiates 7 2/4 ****Proverbs 30 8/9
The Child
I am
The child .
My swaddled
body
is sweet scented rubber
In hollowed out shelter
stone .
I am carried by
my mother .I am
the child
Judge .
He had not seen her for quite some time. Sitting outside the cafe she just happened to run into him with her two young daughters . She was a diminutive woman with fine features and blond hair and her name Anastasia meant resurrection . Her two daughters were dressed identically like two tiny porcelain madeleines except that one was distant ,the other thin and very affectionate .
The thin little one immediately jumped into his lap as if she had suddenly found her long lost father and gently laid her head against his shoulder .She looked up at him with soft hazel eyes . He noticed her eyes had many tiny specs in them .There were so many that together they rivaled and almost crowded out her pupils .”Your daughter is not well”
He said .The mother immediately got up and ran into the cafe .She came back shortly .
He noticed her eyes were red .She had been crying, Her blonde hair slightly disheveled and showing her black roots She was angry ; not with him but rather at fate and how circumstances could fall together in such a way that her fatherless daughter at such a young age could be ill and riddled with so many problems.
The little one nuzzled even closer to him.“ Have faith he said . “Time rectifies all things “They kissed each other on the cheek and she went on her way, with her two daughters on either side, holding hands.
The morning broke and he awoke from a deep sleep .
His eyes slowly opened ,to the sounds of all the birds welcoming the morning, many small birds in a garbled melody of chirps, and the solitary refrain of an intermittent cooing dove nearby .This would be his last day. The pain of the wounds was excruciating now again, and he was sweating blood.
There were crimson tears at the corners of his eyes,dried blood and dirt on his face .As dawn broke to a new host of torture he realized the little one ,with her head on his shoulder , had been the dark one himself . He braced himself as the door opened .
From “Mercy Brother ” by PWChaltas
PWChaltas 