Poems of the Sangha
More offerings from our Sangha
sisters and brothers
Page 2
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The following poems are from
Bella Garrison
When you just know
It’s a knowing
You can’t explain
Something deep inside
A well. A very deep well
A knowing that sometimes we don’t like
Sometimes you just let go of things that we don’t want to
Things that we’ve invested in
People whom we truly love,
Feel so connected to
Then we do it and we grow
More than we could ever know
The knowing, the expansiveness
Is beyond our wildest dreams
When we’re so alive
Free and open
Feeling the wind like never before
Happiness surrounds you
Know there’s no turning back
It’s a choice to be free or not to be free
We are flying, floating, passionate
Fully experiencing this beautiful life
Relax into the
knowing
Relax into the knowing
Breathe deep and sigh
Don’t ask why
be with the opening
nothing to fear
You are supported You are guide
You don’t even really need to be supported because you are free
Free to fly
Free to live
Open so wide
With everything to give
Expansive and true
It’s all inside you
live to feel and live to give
Well here it is so beautiful and free
It’s all right here now its time to live and be
Just live this life the likes and don’t’ likes be with yourself
You’re the most fun of all
It just takes practice, time to be
Be with what’s inside just you and me
The higher self is watching you now
Loving and supporting you right now
The story unfolds so tried and true
Comforting me and comforting you
The child is here looking up at you
Will you play with me?
I will be with you through and through all things
As we do what we do
Life goes on and we move about
Grant me this energy that moves throughout
This body unfolds thru time as a star in space as a moment in time
Vastness is expansive, like scary too
It’s so big and so strong it vibrates too
It can be intimidating it can take your breath away
It’s only really energy just moving thru
Like the way its’ supposed to
It’s just finally doing its thing to do.
Open to the possibilities of what life can be (or bring)
Don’t strive don’t drive don’t push aside
All of what you used to hide
Bring forth the magic what’s on the inside
the gold the treasure where love resides
The
Branches of our Lives
The branches of our
lives
Criss cross and
entwine
The holdings are
there
They are true
Until we breathe
And
Open up to you
The branches don’t move
The branches are free &
entwined
We don’t know how this came to
be
How we are free and
bound
To live, write and just
be
Be with what is
The blocks and the
holdings
Be who we are
The doings and the
moldings
We are not who we thought we
were
We are not the outer
ways
The new is
unfolding
To remain
flexible
To strive and
drive
And then
release
This new way of living
With
No plans and no
holdings
Knowing others inabilities to open
Knowing their doubts, disbeliefs
We were here
too
Now their gone
Space creates new
friends
People around us have
changed
Yet, family remains the
same
However, communicating
differently
Communicating
anew
Energy ... in
words
Energy ... in
exchanges
Our body’s
awareness
Still remains
The vehicle for
sensing
The ways of this
life
This voice is coming out
It’s finding its
life
Voice is something that we can no
longer resist
Expression
The emptiness
The space
And the food we give
it
Energy is the
Food of life
Food of love
The nurturing of like minded
people
The nourishing food we offer our
bodies
People around us
The thoughts we grant
space
Emotions we
release
In spirit we flow
We let go the possibilities of going
back
Going back to old loves...
We want to and we
don’t
We miss what it gave us
We want to go back
To prove we can do
it?
Or to just be
To be there, to be
free
To transform the old
energy
We know that we could have done it at
a different time in this life
But couldn’t recently...
We wanted the outer ways for some
time
It interfered with our
insides
And taught us so
much
Knowing...
Of whom we really are and who we
practice to be
The ways in which we need to
live
How we discipline
ourselves
So much resistance
today
We want to know
Instead to let
go
Oh....
And then we remain free to not
know
Not having to
know
And now remember once again that we
Hold in our thoughts, emotions,
physical blocks,
Keeping back the spirit and the
flow
The flow of our expressions, voice,
our love
These blocks
remain in our body
wanting to be released
When it is not
We cry
When it is not
It hurts
We develop
compassion
For our body’s way of communicating
with us
Is to let us know,
We feel it talking to
us,
We release it
We heal it
We let it go
It is what it is
Whatever that may
be
The following poems are from
Diane Negvesky
My Father’s
Joy
I never mothered a child. I stand in fear of infants.
And yet, I am a childlike adult.
My six-year-old niece honors my silliness with cards and hugs.
My mother grieves the maturity I seem to lack
although her sensing and sensible self makes noble attempts to bridge
that chasm between her practicality and my ozone-ness.
My father’s comical examples testify every day of my life
that joy cannot be sought after consciously.
Joy just is – but all the serious stuff gets in its way.
My father is a cancer survivor.
He faced the medical news with a smile and decision.
“Cut out that part of me that doesn’t work,” he said.
“Let the rest of me go on its merry way.”
Such lightness does not come easily to my mother
who speaks to her god in stern, incensed churches
where god does not always seem to listen.
Dad does not believe in God, or in going to church.
But his gratitude for life is a bountiful flow to an entity that responds with bliss.
Dad is just so happy to be alive.
In quiet moments, I see myself surfing atop life.
The waves come and go, and the wretched rip-tide beckons –
“I can break your little body into pieces.
Just come down here where I am,” it says.
A Fearful
Foot
It’s hard to drive with a fearful foot.
An early accident and early life conspired to form a terrifying view of the road.
Life would take off in spurts.
Full throttle, slow down, speed up.
Acceleration and glides, skates of smooth satisfaction.
Then, sharp turns, slow down, skid shut –
Must have taken the wrong turn again.
Some days the road ahead is clear and bright.
But then I remember the fear bred into my right foot.
“Always hold your foot over the brake,” she said.
“You must be prepared for what can happen at any moment.
That’s what I do.”
It’s hard to drive with a fearful foot.
The gas gets wasted, momentum caught up in fitful stops.
But I’m lifting my foot high now.
It brazenly quivers in mid-air.
Propelled by possibility, I surge ahead.
The hell with the brake, I’m driving on.
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