Disrobe

Love is
The Great Disrober,
and, No …
I don’t mean
THAT,
for Goodness Sake …
You can do THAT
disrobing on
Your own time …

I’m talking about
The Black Robe
that hangs in
The Judicial Chambers
of Your Heart,

that You wear
in the Courtroom
of Your Mind
when You’re Judging
All That Is.

As If
All That Is
was Anything
Other
than another
Name for
The Divine,

when even
The Big Black Holy Books
You treat as Law
declare that

“God Is Love.”

So Who needs
another Name
beyond

Love
for All That Is?

Only Judges and
Holy Law Books.

So disrobe,
come off of the Bench
and out of the Courtroom.

Wear something
You Love.

(Photo by Majid Korang; UnSplash)

 

Poetic License

At the risk of
revocation,
I proffer my
Poet’s License
as follows:

Imagine
the Garden of Eden
with two Trees.
By my Poet’s Liberties
I will call them
The Tree of Judgment
(formerly known as
The Tree of the Knowledge
of Good and Evil) and
The Tree of Love
(formerly known as
The Tree of Life.)

The Creator has
warned the Two
who live there,
Adam and Eve,
to avoid the Fruit
of the Judgment Tree
as if Their Lives
depended on it.

But the Two
have ignored
Their Creator –
curious Beings
They are –
and eaten
a dozen or so.

Now Adam is
huddled atop a rock,
awash in shame
because He would
rather meditate
than tend the Garden,
and He knows
He should work harder.

Eve is sulking
because it was She
who urged Adam
to eat from
The Judgment Tree.

And the Creator
has startled Them both,
springing from behind
another rock, and

grinning at Them
as any adoring
Mother might –
They were created
in His image –
Her and Him Fractals of
His and Her gorgeous Light!

He waves Them
to Herself,
laughing:

“I warned You about
that Tree of Judgment.
Lesson learned,
am I right?

Here,
I brought you both
some chocolate-covered
cherries I picked
especially for You,
my Precious Ones,
fresh from
The Tree of Love.”

(Photo by Solstice Hannan; UnSplash)

 

Stroller Boy

Out for My
thirty-minute trek
to the tune of
Indie-Rockin’ in
my earbuds,
My only concession
to the Exercise-a-holic
Twenty-Thousand-Steppers
colonizing my
Facebook page with
their boasts.

I’ll forgive Them
to the tune of
Slow Dances and
The Winnetka Bowling League,

or, even better,

I’ll float in
The Wisdom
of The Little One
I just stepped aside for
on the narrow trail,

pushed in a stroller
by a grinning Father,
body too young
to toddle.

But when He
looked at Me,
I knew that Little One,
eyes lit and
sweet half-smile,

may have had
a hundred Lifetimes
to loft His soul,

to light Mine
for a few
love-leaking seconds.

Thank you,
Little One,
and welcome back
to The Planet.

(Photo by Alyssa Stevenson; UnSplash)