Kundalini Splendor

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Tuesday, October 19, 2010

All My Fault (poem) 

Trips away are wonderful and renewing, but it is always good to come back home. Boulder is now in its full glory of fall--a kind of golden paradise. Somehow, the brilliant spectacle reminds me of Shakespeare's sonnet which begins: "That time of year thou mayst in me behold/when yellow leaves or none or few do hang/against those boughs that shake against the cold" and ends "to love that well which thou must leave ere long." Indeed, we must love the sight of nature unfolding its final beauty of the year as fully as we can, for we know that soon all will be gone, buried under the snows soon to come.

All My Fault

(to the Beloved, after a lengthy separation)

This is to let You know

that I miss You.

I know, I know,

it is all my fault.

I have been busy

with “other things,”

which somehow seemed

more important at the


But now I am longing

for You beyond belief.

I am like a mother

who goes out to

the green grocer,

leaving her child alone

at home.

On the way back

she suddenly wonders,

what if something

has happened

while I was gone?

What if I never

see my precious one


Dorothy Walters

October 19, 2010

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