CurranPoem

I sit in quiet contemplation, Meditation—serene—centered For once relaxed—at peace The turbulence of the world Is quieted and not bothering me The dark demons who so often Occupy my thoughts have been Sent to the corner to sulk but They wait knowing they will Have their chance to take over My brain and drive me crazy Once again but I have learned To embrace them and ask them What they have to teach me That drives them crazy I tell Them I love them and they Melt

We are on fire The earth is burning Humans are torches Of the spark of life Burning with emotions Anger, lust, and love Never knowing the fires We ignite in each other While trying to be normal Burning fossil fuels in our cars And our light bulbs and phones Missing the spark of mindfulness That we are the light of life of a Burning earth—consuming itself The winds and waters will flow With or without us

I love getting old There are things that are no longer Young in the world—like sitting at the bus stop Before it was always about getting to work on time Now the next stop is death so I am not in a hurry I just sit and wait, smile and talk and soak in the sunshine There are so many stories at the bus stop— Some happy, some very sad Sometimes I have to stop and let it all go Knowing I can’t heal their pain but I can bless— Quietly in my own mind and I wonder If the universe is listening

The chimney sweepers come to dance At the funeral of one of them who fell Now free of the soot and dark labor Free to dance—free of soot and poisoned Air free to breathe in paradise while they Return to chimneys—waiting The wives and sisters morn he who brought Food and laughter hugs and love now gone-- Who knows where-- Will the brothers lovers Fill the gap-- Dread and hope feed the wheel That keeps turning in this gray dreary world Where life is a never ending quest Where the dance at the funeral is That birth is just a ticket to paradise