Thanks

A meadow, a small crowd of trees
marching over the hillside
over a million years pauses for me here
and I’m so grateful.

God I thank you for every thing,
for the whole of it, not partial,
good and ill,
for the bird that ate my snack, thank you,
the morning walk and the poop stepped in,
for grace that hauled me from deepest pit,
sunlight on a pitcher handle, thank you,
for sickness— the body to be sick—
and recovery, always trailing death,
the small yellow stone happy on a city street,
always your mystery in it,
mountains leaping up can’t contain it.

Humility tackles me. Wonder erupts.
Thankfulness tangles my words.

I give you thanks,
my life:
may every thought word and deed be thanks,
and after I die
gratitude
linger in the air.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

August 2, 2019

I forget you

I forget you
utterly, completely.
I forget you with my whole self.
I forget you with my hands,
reaching for not you,
grasping something always else.
With my breath I forget you,
air passing out of me, never returning.
I forget you with my feet,
walking up stones,
not touching earth,
you are forgotten.
I forget you with my eyes,
seeing otherwise,
not even the shape of you,
the space in the air that isn’t you,
not what casts the shadow, not the shadow
but only the shape
I forget.
I forget you with my butt,
sitting where I please, not minding.
I forget you with everything I have
when I can manage it.
I forget you on the tip of my tongue
and at the back of my mind
how can I possibly
forget you?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

August 1, 2019

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