In The Zone

I love mysteries where

the resolution is adumbrated

by the first glimpse of the crime scene.

The detective never knows more

than we do, although her ability to grok

far surpasses our own.

We watch her eyes sharpen,

gleaming as she looks afar.

As if while we churlishly trudge

through drifts of snow,

she examines each micro crystal of a snowflake.

These tiny clues wag flags

so miniscule that we most likely

miss them, in our rush to

arrest the suspect.  I want to

cultivate that willingness

to find the fractals that

defy explanation

and use them for intuitive leaps

about the human condition.

Climbing up these perfect

weird patterns to reach

the stars — oh, the magnificence

of galaxies and clusters —

those constellations twinkling

augury like a mother fondly

watching a child who nests

matryoshka dolls, over and over

until finally saying,

oh, I get it.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: micro

Nursery Rhyming

“Take care of your friends.  You never have to feel lonely ever again.” — Jeroen Raes 1

There are all of these mirrors, you see

and songs that identify head, shoulders, knees and toes,

knees and toes.  We teach

our young to trust appearances

but the dark truth is:

we are mysterious creatures,

a walking bacterial colony

having a human experience.

We never mention our gut flora

although we urge handwashing with antibacterial

soap, proving how little we understand

our actual identities.

Our bacteria crave the foods we are drawn to,

and it is easier to be a slave

to a sugar addict

than to step up and feed

the flora that keep us well.

Can you imagine a board book

for toddlers that describes

the 100 trillion bacteria

that we really are?

I would hope it includes starshine

and waves of energy,

all the invisible lifelines

that make us feel whole,

heart-spanning

constellations working optimally,

spiderwebs of connection

and a song about how the doors

of the heart go open and shut

all life long.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: creature

1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=11&v=Af5qUxl1ktI

Holding Mysteries

In my earliest days, I studied

like the joker in the watchtower:

there must be some way outta here,

too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.”

Piano scales soothed me, even at age four:

diligently creating music and order

in the chaos I called home.

I was the optimist

learning astrology, tarot,

gardening, cosmetology,

philosophy, nutrition,

childhood development,

trying to find a way to see things clearly,

to answer all the burning questions.

And every time I said, I know this,

I fell asleep, sucked back into the confusion.

Now in the second half of my life

— and yes, I fully expect to reach 100,

I study the questions that cannot be answered,

and the answers that cannot be questioned.

I don’t know you

and I can’t ever know you,

so surprise me and say anything.

I study now

the inner space, as wide

as the night sky deep

in primitive wilderness;

the wild genius;

the doors of the heart,

what makes them clang shut,

deadbolt-locked,

what makes them spring open.

I study the connections between us,

how I can tune into you,

into the angst of your long-dead great grandmother.

I study mysteries with no intention

of ever arriving at the dead

place of I know.

I look intently at pain

and dark places,

with a childlike wonder,

the joy of asking what is this,

and why?

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: study