Talking to God on the Seventh Day

You're not so sure about this world?Listen. Take another look:

the joyful recklessbarking dogs, convinced of doom, hysterical,or only proud to own the yard,the block, the wind --the raised welt of their voicesroughening your dreams.

The new leaves slightly bent, likefingers on guitar,rippling their chord of twigs --and the still-bareslingshot branches,naked as the tails of rats,liminal as roots.

The squirrel crushed in the road,its tail stillwaving, in the wind of passing cars, a flag,and the blackest of black crows,breaching the bodywith its surgeon beak --

black needles of its feet so pleasedwith death,which is also meat, and life.Another squirrel, its rapid jaws

muttering around a nut:My number not up yet not yet bub not yet --

Now tell me why you ever thoughtyou could improve on this

music, this hunger.

~ Ruth L. Schwartz ~


(Edgewater)

Talking to God on the Seventh Day

You're not so sure about this world?Listen. Take another look:

the joyful recklessbarking dogs, convinced of doom, hysterical,or only proud to own the yard,the block, the wind --the raised welt of their voicesroughening your dreams.

The new leaves slightly bent, likefingers on guitar,rippling their chord of twigs --and the still-bareslingshot branches,naked as the tails of rats,liminal as roots.

The squirrel crushed in the road,its tail stillwaving, in the wind of passing cars, a flag,and the blackest of black crows,breaching the bodywith its surgeon beak --

black needles of its feet so pleasedwith death,which is also meat, and life.Another squirrel, its rapid jaws

muttering around a nut:My number not up yet not yet bub not yet --

Now tell me why you ever thoughtyou could improve on this

music, this hunger.

~ Ruth L. Schwartz ~


(Edgewater)

The Journey

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one linealready written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright

and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving
you are arriving.

(House of Belonging)

LAUGHTER

What is laughter? What is laughter?

It is God waking up! O it is God waking up!

It is the sun poking its sweet head out

From behind a cloud

You have been carrying too long,

Veiling your eyes and heart.

It is Light breaking ground for a great Structure

That is your Real body - called Truth.

It is happiness applauding itself and then taking flight

To embrace everyone and everything in this world.

Laughter is the polestar

Held in the sky by our Beloved,

Who eternally says,

"Yes, dear ones, come this way,

Come this way towards Me and Love!

Come with your tender mouths moving

And your beautiful tongues conducting songs

And with your movements - your magic movements

Of hands and feet and glands and cells - Dancing!

Know that to God's Eye,

All movement is a Wondrous Language,

And Music - such exquisite, wild Music!"

O what is laughter?

What is this precious love and laughter

Budding in our hearts?

It is the glorious sound Of a soul waking up!

Remember...

Enjoy....

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.

You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harderevery time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.

You'll fight with your best friend.

You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.

You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.

So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.