—Poems by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
—Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
May I be merciful, and in doing so may I find mercy. May I share what I have, especially when there is not much to share, and in doing so find my own heart. May I forgive all of those who have wronged me, and in doing so learn to finally forgive myself. This I pray.
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If you could, would you bicycle to the horizon of the world at night? Moving east toward the sunrise? Would you open your heart to the starlight above? Would you pedal faster to match the passion of your life?
From the sound of your footsteps crunching
Through the woods comes a certain clue
That the wolves use to track you down.
As you walk, your eyes are on the leafy ground
In search of other clues, symbols, or mushrooms.
Your eyes sound like music, or like the cries
Of a hungry child. —is that correct?
No, it is the sound of the final breath
Of your alcoholic father.
No, it is the sound of an old plow
Cutting through the hard earth.
Your eyes have that power, that music.
Your eyes are a pump, bringing up fire from hell.
And now the woods are thicker, there is no path,
And you are lost. The trees have strange colors,
Blue and purple and white,
And they reach out for you,
The hoary branches are their arms,
And you struggle to get past.
It is very dark, you didn't notice
That the sun had been going down,
And you wonder if the wolves are getting closer.
And they are.
These woods have a name,
But you don't know that,
And you don't care.
How different might life be if we had to carry with us everywhere the coffin or the urn that will one day hold our remains? I think I would like my ashes tossed into a strong wind, right here where I live. Even now, a breeze is kissing the treetops while the pines and oaks wiggle.
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Years of living with pain. Carrying the weight of a lost son. Knees that ache, the left one horribly so. I do what I can. I move through life one day at a time, I try to think about other days. I don’t always succeed at that, but sometimes I do. The pain and the weight; my left and my right. One is hard, the other harder. Last night up in the very late hours to find that even the air around me was crying.
May we all know compassion,
both to give and to receive.
May we all know forgiveness,
both to give and to receive.
May we all know kindness,
both to give and to receive.
May we all know love,
both to give and to receive.
To give and to receive.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
As I seek blessings through prayer, may I remember to be thankful for the blessings already here, around me, with me; the beauty of existence.
—James Lee Jobe
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Many thanks to James Lee Jobe this morning for his kind words and gentle photos! Tonight at 7pm, Sac. Poetry Center presents a reading from the late Carolyn Ralston’s book, The Edge of Your Universe. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa, loving the wolves, loving the music, loving the poetry
—Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
