by Eric Diamond
Be thankful for the grief in autumn,
rust on weathervanes, sour plums, and
soothing words for the sad, four-leav’d heart.
I let bygones be bygones, then
went after bigger fish to fry.
Try my speckled perch with artichoke heart.
Numbed by news, dark grey overcoats
of despair huddle in doorways
in the city they call Broken Heart.
Owls track scurrying field mice, while
hawks cast shadows on wounded squirrels.
Both covet the pink-eyed rabbits’ heart.
Everything we see reflects back
God’s undying love. Each sound knocks from
inside a pulsing, radiant heart.
Imagine a mother waxing cruel
to her child– a father, crying,
alone: poison for the human heart.
“I’m proud of you son”–“thanks, dad”.
A young man, new wheels, new worlds ahead.
A soft blue glow surrounds the swelling heart.
Red candy apples, the old ball field,
Snow forts, fast bikes, hurry home by dark.
Look back, look back, my longing heart.
Free of thought and desire, remember God.
The only road from Self to Spirit runs
down, around, and through the knowing heart.
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Eric Diamond is a psychotherapist, men’s work leader, musician, father, and husband. He is a disciple of Robert Bly, Robert Moore, and John Lee. He has published a few poems along the way. |
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