Listening to the Rain

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

When the rain falls,

steady and long from clouds

resting their thick arms here on

the mountain slope,
I wonder about solitude,

how it teaches you to listen in ways that 
prevent you from explaining meaningful things to another soul;

who wants to be labeled crazy and locked up by

people afraid to have their hearts broken?

What is loneliness?
I don’t know.

For now, I belong to this world.

To understand the language of raindrops,

you must first believe yourself worthy

of their kinship.

© 2014-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From “Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this Word”

Published by Talking Waters Press

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Comedy and Tragedy

Image: Origin Unknown

Prologue

“Comedy aims at representing

men as worse, Tragedy as better

than in actual life.”

~ Aristole, The Poetics

Act 1: Comedy

To be the common man is the art,

ordinary and prevailing, overcoming of

hard-dealt circumstance,

believable, as is our belief in our

smallness, that only some are gifted

divine madness,

chosen to be the sacred fool.

What you are viewing is a place

that we have all come to together;

this scene. Watch it unfold, carefully.

This is what the masterful actor longs for you

to read

between the lines:

It’s a sad plot that we are laughing our

way through because we don’t want

to know that bad things are happening to good

people,

like us.

“Good morning!”

in context of mass causalities.

Where should we shine the light?

Act 2: Tragedy

A god will fall through

fatal error or misjudgment

and find suffering in humility.

Ah, but let time pass this way and he will understand,

And, oh my,

the audience will fear his revelation,

how they want it for themselves but not at

such a terrible cost; the ticket for this show should come cheap.

He never got to play this role.

How should we cast the darkness?

The Finale

When the curtain closes, the

hero always rises.

But which mask was he wearing?

© 2014/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Portraits" (a work in progress)

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Full Moon

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

If you are a sensitive soul,
your body is speaking now. Audible
memories rising. Dusk
descending from the mountain,
asking for the quiet
that comes after you’ve let

it all go, however you do that.

No beauty demands an audience, nor
needs to: Nature has well-

organized witnesses.

How many are awaiting her, and what will they

think of this world when she arrives? Is this about faith?
Is it a prayer? If so, what are we praying for tonight? It

could be about peace, as long as the parishioners realize that

peace is not a passive thing. I can’t pray for that, 

it would be like praying for nothingness

and I want the world to be full.

Two hours more,
while the bright green katydids rub themselves into song and
the screech owl worries the dogs with its tremolo.
I’ll wait, if I can, to make my offerings of gratitude:
I’ll look up as I’ve done for lifetimes and

be thankful for each month’s opportunity

to become human again.

© 2014-2018/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" 
Published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share