Friday, August 25, 2006
Poems by Michael Black and Elizabeth Reninger
Here are two poems by my friends Michael Black and Beth Reninger. I feel very blessed to have such talented and deeply spiritual friends in my life.
Monterey Cypress
Last evening, while under
The watchful gaze of a
Magnificent Monterey Cypress,
my son and I played catch.
At the time, I recall
The tree tugging at my
Heart, and I admired its
Great beauty, for it gave
So much and asked
So little in return.
Imagine my shock this
Morning at discerning
That the sound of stinging
Chainsaws emanated from
The street above.
Half curious, half distressed,
I walked up so see what
All the activity, the noise,
Was about?
I saw—much to my horror—
My faithful Friend being
Dismembered branch by verdant
branch.
My Heart sank, as though
My limbs too, one by one,
Were being stripped of their
Fleshy bark.
A lone worker walked by and
I asked him, Why? Shrugging his
Shoulders, and gesturing, he said in
Spanglish: "Ask her?"
It was only then that I realized
Last evening, that the tree was
Saying its final goodbye.
In the gathering darkness, it
Reached its evergreen tendrils
Out to those who felt its love,
Its connection, as a total gift.
I am crying now. The incessant
Whirring of chainsaws and
Shredders bears its rotating burden.
Wasn’t it Harry Truman who,
Not long ago, ordered that the bomb be
Dropped into a forest that we might
Learn from its energetic aftermath?
Dear Deva of Trees, of Monterrey
Cypress, my profound apologies for
Our insensitivity, our tone deafness.
I almost took your gift for granted, for so
Long, and now that offertory has been
Rescinded by a neighbor who didn’t know
Any better (May Truman have long since apologized!).
I vow to you, Now, that I will plant a hundred
Cypress in your wake: not to compensate
For that which is irreplaceable, rather, I
Only desire to return your courageous gift
Of steadfastness, of peace, of beauty, and of
Standing grace, to this windswept, coastal place.
Now I know why so many Monterey Cypress
Seeds are gathered at the center of our
Dining Room table. May they each bear splendid
Witness to your gifts, G-D’s gifts, and to our
Determination to live as though we are One,
Rather than the Many, rather than the one
who Deins stand above all earthly others.
Oh Monterey Cypress, Thank you for reminding
Me last evening of our most precious gifts.
(Copyright, Michael Black)
Here is Beth's poem:
Who?
shards of glass
from the shattered bottle
catch the moon's radiance
midnight and still
I'm here
(copyright, Elizabeth Reninger)
Monterey Cypress
Last evening, while under
The watchful gaze of a
Magnificent Monterey Cypress,
my son and I played catch.
At the time, I recall
The tree tugging at my
Heart, and I admired its
Great beauty, for it gave
So much and asked
So little in return.
Imagine my shock this
Morning at discerning
That the sound of stinging
Chainsaws emanated from
The street above.
Half curious, half distressed,
I walked up so see what
All the activity, the noise,
Was about?
I saw—much to my horror—
My faithful Friend being
Dismembered branch by verdant
branch.
My Heart sank, as though
My limbs too, one by one,
Were being stripped of their
Fleshy bark.
A lone worker walked by and
I asked him, Why? Shrugging his
Shoulders, and gesturing, he said in
Spanglish: "Ask her?"
It was only then that I realized
Last evening, that the tree was
Saying its final goodbye.
In the gathering darkness, it
Reached its evergreen tendrils
Out to those who felt its love,
Its connection, as a total gift.
I am crying now. The incessant
Whirring of chainsaws and
Shredders bears its rotating burden.
Wasn’t it Harry Truman who,
Not long ago, ordered that the bomb be
Dropped into a forest that we might
Learn from its energetic aftermath?
Dear Deva of Trees, of Monterrey
Cypress, my profound apologies for
Our insensitivity, our tone deafness.
I almost took your gift for granted, for so
Long, and now that offertory has been
Rescinded by a neighbor who didn’t know
Any better (May Truman have long since apologized!).
I vow to you, Now, that I will plant a hundred
Cypress in your wake: not to compensate
For that which is irreplaceable, rather, I
Only desire to return your courageous gift
Of steadfastness, of peace, of beauty, and of
Standing grace, to this windswept, coastal place.
Now I know why so many Monterey Cypress
Seeds are gathered at the center of our
Dining Room table. May they each bear splendid
Witness to your gifts, G-D’s gifts, and to our
Determination to live as though we are One,
Rather than the Many, rather than the one
who Deins stand above all earthly others.
Oh Monterey Cypress, Thank you for reminding
Me last evening of our most precious gifts.
(Copyright, Michael Black)
Here is Beth's poem:
Who?
shards of glass
from the shattered bottle
catch the moon's radiance
midnight and still
I'm here
(copyright, Elizabeth Reninger)
