from the forthcoming August 2019 release of The Temple of Warm Harmony, Homebound Publications

It is possible

to live in a time

and not be of it

to look at your fellow countrymen

and think they’ve all lost their heart-minds.

It is possible
to see a woman’s face,

to hear her voice,

and despite her age

see the little girl inside.

It is possible
to see a whole room
of women dressed to the nines
and instead of seeing
“prospects” or “celebration”
to perceive a glittering banditry of desperation.

This isn’t a poem
for those still bought-into

Fantasyland.

If, like me,
you removed the linchpin

of hope and fear

and you’re floating free

walking between
the truth-telling of the void

and this world on fire,

I offer you
an unobstructed breath

in the middle of all this dust.

I offer you
an unobstructed thought
we can hold in the midst of the storm.

Disharmony has existed for twenty-five centuries.

Shakyamuni taught about it.

Yeshua preached about it.

Laozi wrote about it in a book

before leaving on an ox
because he just couldn’t take it anymore.

But if you and I

can sit like warriors

and still drink tea

despite the endless

refractions of madness

we see around us

we still have a chance
to be a rivulet of pure water
flowing through
and into
this trouble place,
this troubled age.


(c) 2019 / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com

sound: What Dreams May Come / Jameson Nathan Jones

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