Picture created by Crow from a photo by Midi.
| The Observer Wandering through life Avoiding contact, Avoiding strife, The Observer sees Much, contemplates, Learns, then moves on To other places, Replete with people, Wandering blindly, Wanting only to Fill hungry bellies, Still their bleak thoughts. And the Observer Standing to the side, Watches silent, Wondering, learning, Not belonging, In but not of.  Wolf at the Oakland zoo Lone Wolf A lone wolf lopes along Forest path, dark and green, Silent, alone, unseen, Howls his lonely night song. One day he may find a mate, A place to stay, to be known, But for now, does not bemoan These travels that are his fate. He is the lone wolf, the one Who belongs nowhere, No family, no lair, Wild and free under the sun.  Ospreys exist above, Perched on a nest up high, Heedless of us below. Live in the world of Sky, Fish in the tidal flow, Soar high above the Bay, Untouched by human fray, Living the osprey way. But... One day parent osprey Catches a fish entwined: Monofilament line Left to float in the Bay By a human who may Not know what he has wrought, A chick's talon is caught, All effort come to nought, And it takes another Human, caring and kind To untangle the line, Endure the ospreys' cries Circling in the skies, He valiantly tries. As two worlds intertwine For brief moment in time. -MW The Outsider She was an unusual woman. A dark skinned foreigner, she did not belong, was not welcomed into houses. But she did not let this bother her. She spent time alone, thinking, watching the world around her. It was an exciting time. Prophets wandered the area, preaching their own news of miracles to come. One such prophet caught her eye. He was tall and slender, long-haired, with a proud stance, sure of himself. One day he visited the house where she lived with her sisters. She brought water to wash his feet. and he smiled benignly down at her. Then he invited her to join him and his disciples. So she did. How could she not do so? His words inspired her, she loved him heart and soul. But here too, she did not belong. He spent time with her, loved her more than the other disciples, but he was busy. Often he went away for a time. And she was left alone again. For the other disciples, the men, did not accept her. “How is it that you spend more time with her than with us?” a disciple asked the Master. “Why should I not spend time with her?” he answered. And the disciple glared at her, not at the Master. So whenever he was gone, she went back home to live with her sisters. And he, who had disciples and many who congregated to see him wherever he spoke, was also an outsider. He was above his followers, a thinker, a prophet. He wandered, not worrying about fitting in. And for this, the authorities hated him. One day, he entered town triumphantly, along with his followers. He shared a seder meal with his disciples. And foretold his fate. One would betray him, all would flee and leave him alone to die. Then he turned to her and smiled. She washed his feet with reverence, and knowing it was for the last time, her tears mixed with the expensive unguent. As he foretold, the authorities tried him and convicted him to hanging, like a common criminal. One disciple betrayed him, another denied knowing him. As he hung there, she stood with his mother at a distance, watching in grief. They were not allowed to speak to him, to give him comfort. They watched in agonized silence as the guards taunted and gave him vinegar instead of water to drink. She turned to plead with a disciple to do something. But the men had all vanished, afraid for their own lives. He was taken down to be buried in the dark of night. She did not know where they had put his body and wandered searching. After a few days, her search was rewarded. She saw him in the garden, not a ghost but in body and spirit. He spoke to her. They spent several days in the garden together, while he passed on to her his knowledge, his philosophy of life. He asked her to guard this knowledge then warned her to flee. They would be looking for her and would not hesitate to kill her, despite the child growing in her belly. Then he returned to the skies. And she did as he told. One disciple, who had travelled, knew of a land where she would be safe. So he put her on a ship and she sailed to the land called Gaul. There she found a cave and gave birth to a daughter. Still in but not of, she raised her daughter in seclusion. The townspeople were kind enough, and gave her a simple shelter and food for her and her daughter. She began to wander as he had, offering her store of knowledge to any who would listen. And gradually, she too, gathered a following. Dark and exotic, she became known as the Black Madonna. And they built shrines to her, prayed to her to heal them. But unlike her lover, she remained in obscurity, remembered only by a few followers while the authorities distorted her story, made her into a whore, and virtually erased her from their canon. So that today she is known by most only as the whore out of whom Jesus cast 7 demons, a fringe figure mentioned only in passing in the canon. And we do not know what became of Mary Magdalene and her daughter. -MW | The Outsider The house was ablaze with light And loud in song and laughter. A man in evening dress, With cradled corsage in hand, Stood hesitant at the door. He knocked not once but thrice, With vigor then timidity. No break in din and merriment! Hopes dashed and shoulders slumped, The figure at the door Let fall his corsage, turned And stiffly left the porch. A slowly walking shadow Soon blended in with the dark, Expected and missed by no one! Night's silence was broken by lively sound, Night's darkness pierced by blazing light, And footsteps drifted slowly away. For some there is no welcome and no stay! Aloneness and Loneliness Each is separate, each is alone In family, with friends or in a crowd. Aloneness is our existential lot. Each experiences loneliness, But loneliness is choice not lot, Personal response to existence as it is. We are alone but lonely need not be, Aloneness is the nature of existence And loneliness is but a state of mind! The Bubble Lady The lady in black, She has quite a knack, Blows bubbles all day And can't stay away. Blows bubbles, blows bubbles all day. They swell as they grow, They drift as they blow, They shrivel and bust As good bubbles must. So blow lady blow, blow bubbles all day. An awkward gait, A plaintive smile, A black presence, A will-o'-the wisp, But blow bubbles she can, And blow bubbles she does. Aloneness We come alone Upon this Earth, We lead our separate lives And die our separate deaths. To counter our aloneness We couple and we mingle, But aloneness only pales, For aloneness is our lot! Sad but True Old age was once a grand finale, Age was heeded and respected. Old age now means the body's spent, And age's wisdom is no longer prized. Old age and wisdom have had their run, Now age and senility are paired as one. Both thought and things are in such flux, Age and obsolescence now are one! The Mist of Life translation of Hermann Hesse's poem Im Nebel Strange in the mist to wander! Lonely are bush and stone, No tree sees the other, Each is alone. Full was my world of friends, While yet my life was bright; Now that the mist descends, All have vanished from sight. Truly wise no one can be, Who the dark not kens, That inescapably and calmly Him from all others rends. Strange in the mist to wander! Life is to be lone. No one knows the other, Each is alone. -JM Epigrams by JM The different will always be treated differently. In love, one is no less alone than when alone. Aloneness is life's existential lot. We live in reality and vacation in ideality. One need not be lonely when alone. When among wolves, one must be a wolf or suffer the consequences. To become old is to become passé. Rivet's Song I have no home to call my own, No place to stay at close of day, For I have travelled long and far, Following my lone star. I once had a nest that I called home, A place where I was loved and known, But then I fledged and away I flew, Now I am just passing through. I flew down South all alone, To live down there on my own, To fish and fly every day, And to live the osprey way. Then I flew back to my nest, And asked my parents could I rest. But they said no, that I had flown, And I was now on my own. In the nest was a new family, There was no longer space for me. So now I just find my own way, Flying up and down the Bay. One day at a later date, I will seek my own mate, Build a nest and call it home, A place that is all my own. But for now I roost at night Wherever I happen to alight. I fly here and I fly there, At home nowhere and everywhere. -Midi |
I have a home where I belong
Humans who are my family
A place to rest, a place to chew,
In and of, just happy to be..
Humans who are my family
A place to rest, a place to chew,
In and of, just happy to be..