Aerial View

My brother carrying me to school
On his back across a snow covered field.
An Easter Sunday walk in the North end of Boston
With my true love. It snowed.
A snowy hill at Vermont College,
My little girl spinining with me
Down the hill in a metal disc.
A snowy Christmas eve in New Hamsphire,
My children's hands in mine walking in the the snow.
A walk at midnight with an old friend
On New Year's eve down the center of a snow covered road
On Cape Cod.
Making a snow man in our back yard on Cape Cod
Ice skating on our pond with my family.

Whispering in the Dust

Whispering in the Dust

The dried land cracks and parts under the brutal sun
Cruel voices are heard as heavy boots march across the land
Unnamed forces move into our lives as we listen from inside
Whispering amongst ourselves about this uneasiness we feel
As dark clouds gather and truth rains down to drown us in our apathy.

C.R. Coombs 2006

Genitalia Revisited

Genitalia Revisited

The attraction of one genitalia to another
Regardless of the disposition of the the mind,
Simply describes the condition of all of humankind.
But is it passing fancy or fleeting like a cloud?
Something just to manage without seeming too very proud?
There's something more than wetness and squirming in the flesh
That brings us to another in pants or in a dress.
A face is not a beacon for what happens down below
A mind is not a schemer that only urges go!
Refinements are not easy. Discretion not a norm
Be thoughtful and most cautions of the heavy breathing form.

C.R. Coombs 2006

Mismatched

We live in a mismatched world. The miracle is that we survive in it. From the moment that we take our first breath we are struggling with dissonance. The womb is even a cramped and limiting place, however cozy. When we are launched we slide into the world tangled up in our umbilical cord. Slapped into consciousness we are passed into the arms of the one who claims us as hers. Is it a match? Is she a home or a way station on the way to real love. Does the mother feel love or amazement? One would like to think it is love. From then on it is a scramble to survive with every nerve alert to the danger of not enough. Not enough food. Not enough warmth. Not enough light. Too much light. Alone and helpless we can't even think of anything. An enormous urge to live after having vegetated for nine months in paradise (sort of).
Yes, we are mismatched, most of us, and it is our burden to find a way to adjust to the world we come into that is narrow and inflexible from day one. From childhood to adulthood the mismatch turns up again and again. Parents, playmates, schools, work, friends and lovers, all lack something essential that we seek and can say are mismatches. The 'not enough' syndome turns up again. Not enough money. Not enough time. Not enough this and that. So we adapt and adapt and adapt until we find a compromise match. A place in the world. A person or persons we can tolerate. A situation we can live with. Ways to spend our supply of affection or love, not sure if it is a mutual and sometimes finding out it was a fool's errand and must start over. And so it goes. Mismatched in an imperfect world we learn to live with the disappointment or wear ourselves out seeking perfections in people, places, things, achievement, and money. There is only one perfect match. Her name is Love. Her face is hard to pick out in a crowd, but she only has eyes for you.

Embrace

His embrace
Is not Hers
His is outward
Hers is inner
Do you see?

C.R. Coombs 2006

Breath On My Neck

Breath On My Neck

The breath on my neck
Is not yours
It is His and not Hers
How do I know?
I know.

Something about breath
It is either of the earth
Or sky.

This breath is of the earth
Could it be of the sky?
Never
Not now.

C.R. Coombs 2006

Wage Peace/ Enlightenment

Wage Peace

Wage peace in your heart
Send it out to the rushing world
A soft voice in the ears
Of those marching towards
Or coming home from war.

C.R. Coombs 2006

Enlightenment

My wisdom is a tight ball
Wound up in my self
Growing fat on enlightenment
The starving sit at my feet
Waiting and watching
Lest a crumb should fall from my mouth.

C.R. Coombs 2006

Bamboozled?

Have we Americans been bamboozled into accepting a war on terrorism by the dark side of our national character? Do we come to death and destruction naturally as part of our psychic make up? Do we just a need a few leaders who say "go get 'em" to convince us that it is "the right thing to do" ? Harry Truman approved killing millions of Japanese with the atomic bomb. Do we ever think of that as a crime?
We also interred Japanese in camps fearing their nationality might turn against us.
They were Americans. We had segregation for decades. The dark side or the shadow exists in every man and woman beneath the mask we wear, our public face. When any group of men or women gain power they can find justification for anything they want to do. It has happened again. Reason has been silenced by fear allowing the dark side to step out and attack an oppressed people only to become the oppressors. If the dark side, the shadow, in nations is not considered, it must find ways to justify its actions. Have we been bamboozled? No, we have tricked ourselves into thinking our leaders were right when they were only working with their shadow self.