It's easy on a Sunday morning,
setting out on the freeway to do the shopping
while the air is still cool and the sky a shockingly
harmonious blue and the hammer
of Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday
is resting from the Hand that wields it,
to talk to God and say 'Now is all,
this moment is all, there is, '
and with that one brief sentence
dissolve in a vast Ocean
a whole lifetime of disappointments
and partly-realized efforts, and feel all of life
come up refreshed and clean,
and there's every reason to believe
in an infinite possibility—after all, the sun
is still young and climbing, why not us?
On the way home a few hours later
a lot more two-armed, two-legged
versions of the human condition
are in evidence everywhere and I'm fatigued.
Doing anything has become a bit of a struggle
and I just want to get home.
I try the cleansing a second time.
The results are not as dramatic,
but still, if it worked last time,
the world is only a couple hours old now,
and next Sunday I'll start out early again.
simply marvelous and inspiring, Max. Really, really inspiring. Best bit of 'here's how we can live' i've heard in a very long time. stunning close to the poem as well. a keeper for sure.
Oh, yes! The freshness, the promise of each day's new beginning, the clearness of the rising sun....and the tired return home at day's end...how well put this write is.
This is just aces, Max. This is what poets should be doing for people - teaching spiritual hygiene! Seriously.
Funny that my mind wanted to see 'early on a Sunday morning'. I suspect that the double image is intentional, and it works well. So many great lines; poems in themselves, really. Your thoughts here are so seamless, it's hard to imagine if you did any editing at all before posting, and it's absolutely perfect this way. I often try to recreate a magic moment by playing particular songs that I associate with great times; sometimes it works, sometimes not, but it's always worth the effort. Thanks for this.
Max, not only a lovely poem, but a reminder of just how blessed that Pacific air of the Bay Area, washed overnight by God and the sea-mist and inhaled...the memory almost hurts... but of course it's anywhere, all the time...in your poem. Welcome back from wherever!
I see such worth in your words, you offer the reader a way of looking that can reveal so much healing in the moment, what a star you are, giving others that, much needed second chance 10! ! ! ! ! Love Duncan
your language is clear and this gives your voice an authority. your line breaks are good and there is kindness underneath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A sacred write! longing to purify the soul & body at home it seems.I see the life-drama exactly.