Posts tagged compassion

Poem: Lost Laughing

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12 years
by in Dominique, Poem, Poems

Dominique Larntz * November 21, 2012

 

Lost Laughing

As I peer through the cattails
of the competition
to see another situation
where I was left holding
a saddle I crafted
heavy enough to fit the buffalo
that I watched turn into a monarch butterfly,
here is how I cared for myself.

I reminded myself of the seeds inside me
that grow wild when watered,
that take over plots of my soul
like spilled ink takes over
a poem on a page.

Perhaps one day I will be able
to compete skillfully but for now
I can retreat from society’s
mechanisms of disappointment

and appointment—oh keep me away
from winning, too—those of us who
lose attachingly win with the same animal.

I will put these seeds back
into the rock tumbler of my journey.
I’ll wait for the smooth reflection to form.

When I am ready, those seeds will not be
quivers I can use in some Olympic feat
but worry stones in my pockets.

Poem: This Morning

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13 years
by in Dominique, Poem, Poems

Dominique Larntz * May 5, 2012

This Morning

My tears ran with the shower
while I contemplated our conversation
about the environmental scientists
who committed suicide because they’ve
deduced an impending cataclysm so hopeless
they decided they did not want to live through it.
These small droplets of compassion from my naked body
during its daily ritual that feels like rebirth to my mind
each time I hear the faucet engage
will end at the same place all water ends.
Tears will travel through pipes provided
by people who have achieved such wonders in
engineering that even I, with a tiny house
and a small schedule, can take for granted
a shower in the desert this morning.

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