Ushers of Light, A Meditation
Jeannie E. Roberts
We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness.
―Thich Nhat Hanh
Where luster lengthens, rows of illusory veil taper
in linear array. Like shepherds, old pines guide
the radiance of evening, become luminous in their
Standing within the tulle of reflection, midst
the fabric of belief, shades of perception interlace
humankind. Mired in illusion, false knowing feeds
our sense of separation.
What's been obscured, may rise in clarity.
What's been forgotten, may unite in recollection.
At any moment, we can remember, awaken,
when fear deepens and unknowns knock
the sleepy rock of children, when nightmares stalk
day. We can awaken, when despair walks through
our doors, when relationships stall, shape walls
of neglect and indifference.
We can awaken, when thoughts dangle and tears
hang from the unsteadiness of doubt.
When morning's greeting bursts from horizon
and evening's radiance embraces the company
of pines, we can remember. At any moment,
we can attend the gathering, join the awakening,
stand together, like lambent ushers, radiant
shepherds, who rarely waver, clearly savor the light.
End note: inspired by my tree photograph, "Evening Light"
Seeing Beyond Our Feet
Cristina M.R. Norcross
The shadow escapes from the body like an animal we had been sheltering.
Our roots feel the keen chill of shadow,
while our eyes keep reaching for light.
The darkness sits at our feet,
telling us stories of lack and want,
encouraging us to look back at the past
with either longing or regret.
We can dwell in this space—
acknowledge the one who remembers
mislaid plans and old hurts.
We can count the mistakes
on our fingers—
hold them tenderly in our palms,
cradle the memory of each.
Time whispers to us
that we must move on,
transform the spirit,
let fall from our trembling hands
what we cover and covet.
Light shimmers from the beyond
and we see clearly that green exists
If we look up—
allow ourselves to fully open,
there will be so much more to embrace,
while letting go.
Light keeps replenishing itself
with more light.
Faith offers us this promise.
End note: inspired by the tree photograph, "Evening Light," by Jeannie E. Roberts
Jeannie E. Roberts lives in an inspiring setting near Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, where she writes, draws and paints, and often photographs her natural surroundings. She has authored four poetry collections including the most recent The Wingspan of Things (Dancing Girl Press, 2017).
Cristina M. R. Norcross (Editor, Blue Heron Review) is the author of 7 poetry collections. Most recently, Amnesia and Awakenings (Local Gems Press) and Still Life Stories (Aldrich Press). Published in numerous anthologies and journals, Cristina is the co-founder of Random Acts of Poetry & Art Day. www.cristinanorcross.com