New poem: "No Easy Compromise"

 

No Easy Compromise

 

The two Michaels are back;

so, it was tit for tat: what’s

right for you, is wrong for us;

what’s good for us, is bad for

you; and finding mutual ground

was no easy compromise.

New poem: "The Voting Booth"

 The Voting Booth

 

I stood in the voting booth,

still not knowing who to vote

for, a dreadful feeling of doubt

that shook me to the core; but

I had to mark my X in one box,

and I stopped thinking and asked

my heart, “Who’s the best man

for the job?” And for the first

time in my voting life, I chose

the man and not the party, and

when the CBC declared my party

the winner, I felt no regret voting

for the man my heart deemed most

worthy to lead this great country

of indigenous people and

immigrants like me.

New poem: "The Zen of Life"

The Zen of Life

Does one have to be enlightened to know

that chopping wood and carrying water

is the way to enlightenment? Does it matter

to the unenlightened?  The way is the way,

whatever we do in life, and all the teachings

in the world know this in their own blind

way; but the more wood we chop and water

we carry, the more we wake up to who

we are, until we become enlightened;

and that’s the Zen of life.

New poem: "Life Never Stops"

 

Life Never Stops

Greatness comes, and greatness goes

like waves on the shores of life;

 

There can be no tomorrow like today,

and no yesterday will ever be the same;

 

The end happens on its own, and beginnings

come and go; but life never stops, —

 

Until it does.

New poem: "Victim of a Larger Paradigm"

 Victim of a Larger Paradigm

 

I want to feel sorry for all these good people,

but my heart refuses to bleed for them;

and I have to wonder why.

 

Have I become so hard-hearted? Has this

covid pandemic inured me to their suffering?

Where has my empathy gone?

 

I’ve seen the images on the national news,

thousands of Afghans fleeing from the wicked

Taliban; but I’m not moved.

 

I want to reach out to them with all my might,

but my compassion has gone into hiding;

and I cannot puzzle out why.

 

Gnostic wisdom says a horse can be led to water,

but the same wisdom tells us that the horse

will only drink of its own volition;

 

Is this why my compassion has gone missing

in action? Why my heart refuses to bleed

for the Afghan people?

 

Gurdjieff said that the old world would one day

clash with the emerging new world; is this what’s

happening in Afghanistan?

 

Have the values of the modern world threatened  

the rigid Taliban order, forcing them to stand their

sacred ground, or wither and die?

 

But what about all the innocent people, the men,

women, and children who want to be part

of this new world order?

 

What did they do to deserve all the suffering

inflicted by the Taliban rule? Is all their suffering

their national karmic due?

 

Has life come calling to change the cultural patterns

of their old ways that can take them no further

on life’s redemptive journey to wholeness?

 

I dare not think such frightening thoughts, it’s much

too cruel; but I’m a victim of a larger paradigm,  

and I know that suffering is not for fools.

 

It doesn’t really matter which path we take in life,

they all lead to the self; but the self cannot be born

again, until we die to what we are not.

 

This is the terrifying paradox of the Afghan people,

trapped in the chaos of the old world and new;

but only they can square their circle.

 

I want to feel sorry for these poor souls, but my heart

will not comply; but now that I know the reason

why, I must let go and let God decide.