Tuesday, March 31, 2015

You Are Deserving

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I’m not sure that the little black cat wanted
to be held, but she was going to make sure
that it experienced human love before she
passed back through the gate and onto the
street we would use to go someplace else.

That was her boundless way: to assume that
love simply belonged in a place and to put
it there whenever it occurred to her to do so.

It’s an interesting way to live:

being uncompromising in one’s stance that this
world make a place for love. I think, perhaps,
she realized that time was of the essence, that
there are so many of us that need to be picked
up and shown, in no uncertain terms, that we are
deserving. One can wander the yard for years
without knowing such a vital thing.

This morning, I’ve been wondering what happened
to that little black cat. Maybe the power of her love
magically turned it into something else later that
day. I’m imagining it now as a feisty angel. In my
mind’s eye, it has come from the heavens to pick
her up, ready or not, saying:

“Love. You are deserving!”

And, through the gate she goes.

© 2015/Jamie K. Reaser
For Kelsey Collins
From “Portraits” (a work in progress)

Saturday, March 21, 2015

When Spring Teases

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Sometimes the words that come by 
say: “Don’t listen to me. Not yet.”
They know this makes me curious,
and attentive.

Right now, spring is doing the same thing;
she’s teasing,

and I want her presence all the more.

© 2015/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"
A work in progress

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Wednesday, March 4, 2015

The Crocus

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

You haven’t been able to see it, but it has been
there all along. There, in the darkness. The harsh
times always ask us to put faith in the invisible.

I’ve watched the gaunt squirrels searching for it.
Sometimes they prevail, pressing their noses into
leaf litter and mulch. Scratching. Sniffing again.
Scratching some more. Then, they get greedy.

Often, they move on, sad and empty, but hopeful
that something else will satiate. Soon.  And, it
continues to be there, contemplating its worth
and waiting to be of some beautiful use.

I wonder what goes on inside of it when the
Earth’s embrace turns from hard and cold to
soft and warm. Surprise? Delight? A teary
emotional release?

Something like that, I imagine.

By this age, you’d think I’d know. For sure.
But, I don’t.  I will tell you, when I do.

©2015/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Robins in Winter

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

They said to me, “Stay strong, the
cold days will pass.  Someday
soon, you can come with us to
forage for worms, there will be
no more need for this difficult
search for the very last of the
dried berries.”

I had never before longed for
worms. But, suddenly, there I
stood, realizing that all I
wanted in the world was the
soft company of a worm.  And,
my hand, was empty.

© 2015/Jamie K. Reaser
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Saturday, January 10, 2015

Moon Rise

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

How the moon rises,

She is yet burning with love for
this world that has largely abandoned
her to the solemn sky and which neglects
the instructions she gives with her body, what
we need to know if we are to grow and thrive,
but there are gadgets on and children starving,
and I wish I know how to say, "Look! There
is the moon. She has arisen!" And, get the people to
remember that guidance is in the heavens.

(c) 2015/Jamie K. Reaser

Sunday, January 4, 2015

The Winter Woods

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Go on thinking that this world is
barren. If you must. I shall walk
alone in the winter woods and
wonder at the stark beauty that
somehow – how does it keep
so great a vow? – manages to
remain, steadfast, in all of us.

©2015/Jamie K. Reaser
From “Wonderment: New and Selected Poems”
A work in progress

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

A Little Comfort

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I do believe that there are things out there
trying to get us to notice the miraculous.
There are choruses at sunrise, and colorful
mosaics – like stained glass windows –
crafted among the trees at sunset.

They say: “This is a house of worship.”

They say: “Listen. Look.”

They ask: “What is it that you have been praying for?”

And, I often sit with that question for quite some
time. I’ve prayed for a lot of things, usually not
realizing that I was praying at all. Usually, prayers
about brokenness – mine or someone else’s.

But now, I do choose to pray. Sometimes, silently.
Sometimes, through words shared with the world.
Never, big. Never, flashy. Often, I just want to bring
a little comfort to a soul – mine or someone else’s.

A poem can be a prayer.

© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

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