Humbling

stumbling, falling into conflict, struggling

forgetting for a moment or a time

impermanence and interdependence

thinking I must be, I must be.

a wind stirred cedar, a squirrel sitting

on a slowly decomposing granite boulder

eating sunflower seeds left by loving hands

beneath the tree’s spreading limbs

a transient vehicle for a transforming journey

this complex body, mind and spirit

a beautiful convenience for love’s expression

ancestors and descendants made one in spirit

a medicine becoming communion

and healing balm for the suffering

a community of being and becoming

flowing freely through earth and air

even as life suffers in silent unity

while the dogwood and cherry flower

the Beloved sets us free, guiding us

on this dream crossed journey

discovering love’s true nature

There is nothing I need be but Love’s.

Loving Measures

In mystery,

Mother Earth nurses us.

We live at creation’s breast.

Crow opens a plastic bag for food inside.

Another glides into the lot searching for more.

They stand together at a roof’s verge

Survey the comings and goings in the street.

A man carries a large cardboard box on a black bicycle.

The crows are joined by another pair.

A fifth perches in a nearby tree.

First one then all take to air.

The cloud fingered sky holds their flight

invisibly swirling around their winged bodies.

The wings, the eyes, the dirt full of life

bodies of water, air and emptiness,

consciousness of holy ones

touching spirits and minds

all measures of a loving mystery.

Coming Into Being

It is not by chance  that we come to be

nor by design

but by love which makes hope possible.

Love pouring itself out in hope

we may awaken

and in awakening know our true nature.

Love, confident in its ability

to transform wreckage into heaven

is the seed’s seed.

We are lovers

fruit of hope

becoming the Beloved’s intended

choosing from among the possibilities

which the universe arrays

to be the light of love.

Naked Myrtles

The wind has died down

rain falls straight to the ground.

It is mid-morning but the night’s lights are still on.

The crepe myrtles stretch naked, sand and tan

wet and content in their perfection.

The gray day burns with life.

All its forms burning in the rain.

And the rain is earth’s burning breath

adding fuel to the fire

feeding the flame.

Plucked from Death’s Grasp

It is a miracle we have any consciousness at all.  We were plucked from death’s grasp by a love we could not imagine.  We have many chances to become at peace with what gives us life. 

Whatever your intention, Beloved, I am for it.  I place myself at your mercy.  Love and compassion are all that I have to rely on.  I am not worthy and you come to me, healing me and setting me free to find you in myself and others.  You are in each of us and all of us together whether we are aware or not. 

You do not cease to be because we deny your existence.  All paths on this journey lead to you though they pass through suffering and despair.  I open to the beauty of your presence.  I open to the great mystery in this moment.  I give myself and all of us to this communion that we may all know your love and dwell in it becoming as you intend for us to be.  There is a right relationship for each of us in this phenomenal creation.  This is the beauty way on the journey.  There is truth with every breath.  Here is the holy spirit guiding us in every situation.

None have the right to take a life except to eat and only after giving thanks for nurturing food and its creator.  None have the right to harm the creations.  The great mystery nurtures creation’s creatures, minds and spirits with loving kindness and compassion. 

Finding peace within, I become peace in creation.  I am a human with many streams of consciousness flowing through me, manifesting and re-manifesting in body, mind and spirit.  Many are of us are occupied by roles and beliefs.   Some of us are listening carefully to what each role and belief is expressing.  We are not the voices or the beliefs but the one who hears and responds with healing grace.  We are the ones pointing beyond ourselves to a lover who knows no bounds to love.

We choose the world in which we live.  I choose to live in a world where the elements are relations and humans beings are awakening.  I choose to live in a world where life is sacred and every tree and rain drop is holy.  I live in a world dissolving in rain, nursing on Earth.  A world discovering its connection to life, its true nature.  I live in a world finding its way to peace in the presence of a great mystery.  I live in a world where the holy spirit, the spirit of life touches every spirit.

February's Poem

Love is sacred
when I am with you.
we burn together
until there is but fine dust
like cedar’s yellow-green pollen
settling on leaves, rocks
and the chairs outside.

Water returns claiming the dust,
forming lives from love’s mud,
dancing and intertwining
knowing just what to do.

Love has its way with us.
We moan and weep from joy and sorrow,
laugh and cry feeling our way
through love’s beauty.

Here we are together
not knowing for how long
making plans, sharing intimacies,
going round and round.

The trees keep watch
flowering and seeding,
rooting and growing
praying love’s prayers.


Guari
February 2011

January's Poem

Mandala, January 2011

The Unformed Eastern Sanctuary

Beloved, we don’t imagine you or create you.
We realize your presence
and long for senses to know you,
and evolving minds transforming
our relationship with you.


Life’s Southern Community

Friend, we don’t pretend to understand.
Still we trust you to guide us on the way
Every need here fulfilled.
The relations are here.
The dreams are here.
Love is here.


The Western Congregation of Ancestors

We answered to love for who we were
As well as whom we chose to be
It was love who called us into being
from a mystery too deep for words to reach
yet it was a wordless yes began life.


Mystery’s Northern Reach

Return is not the right word
for the burst of clarity
and sudden transformation
evolution with its
never-the-same-as-before-way
awakens in your presence

December’s Poem

December’s Poem

Love’s light – life giver, if you are,
as some say, merely a human creation
then with these sounding words
I create you anew.

This consciousness grown from earth
Creates you again, attends your birth,
hears you in silence, sees you in emptiness,
questions you.

And your mystery seeing through me
transforms and frees me to live in you
with you in me until I know it is you
who loves this newborn innocence.

Guarionex Delgado
December 2010

November’s Poem

November’s Poem

Black crow glides between fall red maples on still wings
banks slowly and gracefully coming to a two hop stop.
A clutch of tiny sparrows swoop down and alight as one
in the golden green crown of a tree readying for winter.

Even the evergreens on the hillside carry their share
of tan dead leaves among the green waiting a storm’s
windy rainy fingers to pluck them free to return to their Mother.

Dissolving was. Resolving is. Creating what shall be.
Nothing is forgotten. Another transformation.

Results of a path taken are remembered in life’s flesh.
Denial and avoidance fruitlessly repeat a sad story
unwilling to squeeze through the needle’s eye,
blocking the way with pride, arrogance, certainty.

Life creates a truth awaiting our awakening.
Love calls softly to us, before we are able to choose,
leaves signs and miracles in plain sight.

Despised by the powerful of the world we make
love comes meek and humble with arms wide spread
so much like death and birth.

Yellow green leaves shiver in a breeze whispering mystery’s name.
Crow caws and cu-cuck-cu-cu-cucks the name from her darkness.
Sparrows in their wheeling flight as one sign the name.

Guarionex
November 2010

Sister Water

Beloved sister water, troubled by this time
wet and flowing, deep, dark sea of life
we are made mostly of you. We drink you.
We hold you within the skin of us.
You the sea nourishing life,
the hand dug well in the desert of longing.

We capture you forgetting your sacredness
bottling your mystery in plastic.
We do not recognize the One reflected in you.
You come and go as the living way wills.
Every now and then, every here and there
kindred awaken to the way in you.

We, children of a sea within, know you are
your own and intertwined with life’s Spirit.
Sweet water, salt water, blue, gray, turquoise
moonlight slides across your black shining face
on your dancing body sunlight shatters gleaming.

Yet when light slows to the speed of flesh
becoming finned and flippered, it swims
in your ancient holiness as in time’s womb.
Raining from cloud filled skies you tear along
cutting new channels in earth’s soft breast
and her rock hard bones or slowly meander
sinking into hidden seas and rivers birthing springs.

Sister water teach us, show us the way
to heal the harm we do in ignorance or arrogance.
Spirit of sea and hillside spring, spirit of rain
and morning dew, of wetland and marsh,
spirit of well, fog and unknown deep,
of crashing storm driven waves, falling snow
and calving glaciers, guide us whose tears are yours.

If we cannot see good

If we cannot see good within the other, if we cannot see the power of love, if we cannot see love in the other, we will not find it in ourselves for in the end, we and the other are one.

We choose to heal our relationship to the creation, to the creator after a time. We all do, or so I hope. We come to journey the way that heals. We come to make the way, to clear it so those who follow can see the signs and choose the way.

Contrary to popular belief, there is only one way to be faithful to the Beloved's love. And that is by being the possibility of compassion in the creation.

The universe is all center. Everything exists as the center of the universe. The Beloved lives in everything and witnesses everything. When we acknowledge God's presence in the other we no longer respond out of the old paradigm. Love and compassion guide us as we open and allow the Spirit of life to flow through us. We are peace. We are the healing for which the creation longs.