—Anne Powell
Estuary
In the monastery of the heart
we seek the thread
that leads to knowing.
It may be a thread of gold or song
or trimmed flax or cello.
We follow the yearning to go deeper
into the heart of the heart.
Merton calls, “Let the trees speak.”
Walking by Waikanae River
beyond the estuary
where whitebaiters reveal the patience of God,
we welcome the speaking of trees.
Pointing the finger
The finger of land
points into the lake
questioning you.
What’s this season in your life for?
What’s it colour and shape and
all its deliciousness?
A lone pukeko pokes in the wet grass
simply being pukeko
in an unchanging season of foraging.
Out into the lake
points the finger of land.
Once more,
you set out into the deep.
In the heat
(ANZAC Day, Australia–Aotearoa/New Zealand 25 April)
Nana stands in the heat
of her kitchen
wearing her pinny
print from the past
spooning ANZAC biscuits
onto the tray.
Licking the last
and tasting Gallipoli
and thinking she hears
an opening
and calling
“Is that you, dear?”
But
Pop’s still
down on the beach.
Living in the round
It is all in the choosing
this season as teacher and friend.
It is all in the choosing the
once unquestioned pathway
allowing its voice through turmoil of dreams and days.
It is all in the choosing
once fearful depths to shape new spaces
in the soul's shyness.
In this season of invitation
beyond the familiar visible
beyond the lost art of connection
with all creation
Surely rises the sun and moon of peace over fresh hemispheres.
Earthed,
we stumble yet yearn to dance
the unsteady drumbeat of heart.
Facing it
Inside we talked of global warming
and someone said we’d all be dead
before that happened
seeing God face to face.
Does God have a face mused the abbot?
Outside
Cold tingles our faces.
Hills rear and swell in rain.
The face is plainly beautifu
In the river
And when you reach the turn
in the river
stand back noting the bend
is a question mark
asking the whitebaiters where
will you set your nets
and asking of you where is your down-deep self.
And you keep faith with the river
by resting on a strong log
letting the river question you.
The river mirrors the sky
and bares your soul.
Seven steps
The beginning of wisdom is not knowing.
The next step of wisdom is presence.
The third step of wisdom is water lily.
The next step of wisdom is gaze.
The fifth step of wisdom is open petals.
The next step of wisdom is unlearning.
The seventh step of wisdom is joy.