Hidden

"For a man needs only to be turned around once with his eyes shut in this
world to be lost... Not till we are lost...do we begin to find ourselves."
Thoreau, Walden

On this beautiful Friday morning, I'm enjoying java, poetry and facebook! Looking forward to the weekend, and more importantly, picking up my Dallas from camp this afternoon. Dang if I haven't missed that kid and all the sweetness he brings to my life! Gonna take him to Momo's for dinner, one of his favorite pizza places:)
And this morning I shall limit post to a couple poems.

First by Anne Sexton: NOT SO. NOT SO.

I cannot walk an inch without trying to walk to God.
I cannot move a finger without trying to touch God.
Perhaps it is this way:
He is in the graves of the horses.
He is in the swarm, the frenzy of the bees.
He is in the tailor mending my pantsuit.
He is in Boston, raised up by the skyscrapers.
He is in the bird, that shameless flyer.
He is in the potter who makes clay into a kiss.

Heaven replies:
Not so! Not so!

I say thus and thus and heaven smashes my words.
Is not God in the hiss of the river?

Not so! Not so!

Is not God in the ant heap, stepping, clutching, dying, being born?

Not so! Not so!

Where then?
I cannot move an inch.

Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth.
God is not indifferent to your need.
You have a thousand prayers but God has one.

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HIDDEN
by Naomi Shihab Nye

If you tuck the name of a loved one
under your tongue too long
without speaking it
it becomes blood
sigh
the little sucked-in breath of air
hiding everywhere
beneath your words.
No one see....the fuel that feeds you.