POEM

 

 

 

 

 

I know
all too well
that living often seems
to bring nothing
but grief.

Nevertheless
on this extraordinary day
I give thanks,
and thanks, and more thanks
because somehow
for no reason at all
I have suddenly
been filled
with Light.

Light
from who knows where
or how –
all I know is
Light is in me
IS me
as I am it –
full of joy.

So
even though the future still looms
with all its heartbreaking
life-shattering probabilities
still
despite all rationality
today I am happy.

This morning when I awoke
legions of crows
made me smile
flying in volleys past my window
on their way to fulfill
the urgent need for crows
everywhere.

And I was glad
performing my
morning ablutions
imbibing my pills and potions
kissing my love
sending him out the door
with blessings,
and watching the day
begin to unfold
its million possibilities…

How can this be,
such joy
in a world of calamity?
I think it is just
that I live surrounded by royalty –
all my friends and family,
and everyone I meet
are kings and queens, joyous beings
full of such dignity
and pure goodness
that it makes me weep.

You and I and they,
we share all things.
We are the Light,
the Life,
the Meaning of the Universe.
How can I stop giving thanks
and blessing everyone
and everything?

This thing of blessing –
some recoil at the word
believing it reveals
allegiance to a certain sect
they see as evil
or at least embarrassing –
but I say the act of blessing
has nothing to do
with dead institutions
but is simply
the most natural response
to being alive.

Everyone I meet
and everything I see
deserves a blessing,
needs a blessing,
and blesses me,
who also deserve
and need
all the blessings
I can get.

A blessing is protection,
is joy,
is caring,
is recognition,
is bottomless, endless gratitude.

May this joy of blessing
flood outward from our hearts,
washing clean the Earth,
radiating out beyond the farthest star,
filling all the Universe
with Light.

Blessed Be All Things
in this and every Time and Space.
Blessed Be all that is,
has been, and is to be
Blessed be We
the Human Family.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.
Blessed Be.


About the poet:

Trudi Lee Richards

Siloist writer, poet, and singer-songwriter; curator of Winged Lion Press Cooperative; Spanish-English translator. Published work includes The Confessions of Olivia; On Wings of Intent, a biography of Silo; Soft Brushes with Death, a Jorge Espinet Primer; Fish Scribbles; and Experiences on the Threshold. Ongoing projects include audio recordings and possibly a podcast of her literary and musical work. Publishing exploits from the pre-internet past include Human Future, an independent review published from 1989-96 in San Francisco, CA; and La Mamelle, a San Francisco arts publication of the ’70s for which she was co-founder. A graduate of Stanford University, she is the mother of five grown kids/stepkids and five step grandkids. She currently lives in Portland, Oregon, where she is a member of the Portland Community of Silo’s Message.