Greetings from the Land of Enchantment

The Coming Day

Greetings Everyone,

I am continually surprised at who shows up in my life and in what ways. A friend of mine in the community sent this poem in celebration of my birthday tomorrow. I thought I'd share it.


On this day God sent a sister to take birth,
to share the songs of angels with the earth.
With total grace God gave a gifted voice,
to share God's own words and rejoice.
In the light of the shabad Guru,
all can be seen as true.
A voice at all might be a curse without the naam,
a beautiful voice brings to life each psalm.
To utter God's words even ONCE we are blessed,
a life of pleasure and pain becomes a perfect quest.

Thank you Prabhu for the lovely poem.

I, too, have been contemplating poetry in these past few days as my birthday approaches. Mary Oliver especially. She has a wonderful piece about death called 'Gravel'. Because at my age (ha) when you think about birth, you also think about its polarity, death. So here is my poem to celebrate my self-existence in this moment in time and space:

Living Will

My last will and testament
does not speak of wealth or
the dispensing of things
but of wishes and memories
and even dreams.

when this breath leaves this body,
this sack of bones, may I be
turned to dust.
lay me not down beneath earth
and stones
Let me loose so that I can fly
floating along a warm breeze
let me lie down in all the wilding places:
moss and fern, desert flower, pinion tree,
let me join the waters of a
flowing stream
may I join the ocean
that always meets the shore
In this way I can say
I have flown
I have traveled far
I have crossed the world ocean
I've become a star

I leave to you the memory
of my grandmother's touch
so soft, like the touch of a dove
I leave to you the smell of
my grandfather's neck--
part oil, part sweat

I leave to you the burst of my
father's laughter
surprising and rising, then after--
the stillness, the silence,
the quiet of his presence

I leave to you sound of my mother's hmmmmm
her audible joy of eating
under the summer sun--
the last piece of lemon pie
or the sum of her many labors--
homemade ice cream,
vanilla, of course

I leave to you the beauty of my sister
her once long raven hair
her body like a goddess
her heart an ever-blooming lotus

I leave to you the boundless energy of my brother
who I never thought I'd see sit still
until he had his daughter
and his life was fulfilled

I leave to you the many loves I've had
and the many that I've lost
I leave to you the strength I carry
in my voice and
in my walk
I leave to you my only song
Joy, Joy, and more Joy
and only ever sometimes, loss.
I leave to you my laughter
that came as easily as breathing
I leave to you my sorrow
that never meant a thing
I leave to you my books of poetry,
history, and story. They made my life
bearable when I thought I could go no longer.

I do not leave regret, or anger or despair
I do not take it with me either
for I am finished, I am air

I am finished with motion
I am still as stones
I am bones
I am as quiet as the sound of a morning
after rain
I am home
Home again, home again
jiggedy jig, home again, home again
jiggedy jig

posted by Sat Purkh Kaur Khalsa @ 11:13 AM