Archive for the ‘Spirituality’ Category

I’ve never been me before

October 5, 2018

With the early morning fog
All was white-gray
Seeing nothing for more than 100 yards
Islands were not to be seen
Nor the far shore

Silence
Well, not quite
Soft, gentle movement heard
Water caressing the rock-strewn
Beach

I was thinking, for me,
This is a new experience
And certainly so
On this day, in this place
At this age

Who I am today is new
What I experience today is new
All I see and all I hear, new
The me of now
Has never existed before

I’ve never been this me before
I should be in awe of everything
Tired of nothing
Open to the grace
Of all things

©2018 Thomas W. Cummins

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I was quite young

December 11, 2017

Going through boxes and boxes of stuff in preparation for downsizing during the next decade, or so.

I was quite young when I wrote this. Perhaps it was 55 years ago. Nevertheless, here it is

If I could choose

Estrangement

August 24, 2017

Heartache
Emerges unsummoned
From the subconscious
Takes up residence
Down low
In the stomach
Until
Nothing else matters

A simple question,
“What’s wrong?”
Brings a flood of tears
Washing away
Much of the ache
Leaving behind
Deep sorrow
Confusion, longing

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

That missing something

July 29, 2017

Sitting at a table
Our group of eight
A crowded restaurant
An awareness
Of my not talking
Not listening
Gazing out the window

Feeling detached
Indifferent
An unknown
Unarticulated
Longing
For what?
That missing something

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins

I watch and wait

July 16, 2017

—-∞∞—-

Thundering, blowing rain
A squall
Wind-whipped leaves
Vegetables in the prisoners’ garden
Planted in the housing unit yard
By the fence

While a desolate place
Nurturing rain
Growth
Symbols of life’s hope
Grace overcoming bleakness
Pushing aside despair

Sheltered under an overhang
I watch and wait
Far from the chapel
Where men also wait
Four locked gates away
I watch and wait

© 2017 Thomas W. Cummins

My future waits for me alone

June 1, 2017

Is it just sitting there waiting?
The future, that is
Or is it there at all?
Yet, whatever it is, it looms
Often dreaded
Occasionally filled with hope

Our present steps into that future
Or, perhaps, the future comes toward us
As our past is pulled away
Pulled away with its regrets and joys
Pulled away with its dreams
Fulfilled or deferred

Aren’t we left, really, with only today?
Today, the present, belongs to both
Past and future
Who I am is a remnant of my own past
My present is experienced by no other
My future waits for me alone

©2017 Thomas W. Cummins