Long Cart Poems
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My son had come back home to stay for just a little while.
He brought with him his terrier friend; a lively, puppy child.
The skinny, little half grown dog came bounding through my door.
I couldn’t realize at the time, all he’d become . . and more.
For sure he tipped the apple cart when first he entered in.
His lively spirit made me think, I’d not know peace again.
The walks with my old terrier dog were all that I could want.
Soon slow and steady, calm, serene, became a grueling jaunt.
Old dog sniffed each bush and tree, as young dog plunged ahead.
While I was pulled this way and that and mostly seeing red.
And God forbid another dog come ambling on our way;
My stress filled walk would soon become, an all out frenzied fray.
He plagued the cats, barked at the door: he loved to sit and howl.
While I just tore my hair out: yet I found that all this while;
He simply grew to grow on me despite his naughty ways.
And as the time began to pass we had some better days.
While in his quiet moments; he just loved my generous lap.
Liked to have his belly rubbed: lay with me for a nap.
He liked to give wet kisses, till I had to tell him, “No."
Loved the car: turned inside out, whenever I said “Go”.
My son moved on, as sons will do, endeavoring to be free.
And by this time we both agreed; young dog should stay with me.
And when old dog forsook my side, because God said he must;
I found the young dog next to me gave all his love and trust.
He stayed beside me night and day and never asked to leave.
He seemed to sense I needed him, along with time to grieve.
I then began to understand what a nice dog lived with me,
For in the old dog’s shadow; he’d become all he could be!
But fate became unkind to us and time was not his friend.
The young dog only stayed awhile, then moved on once again.
And this time I was all alone, with no friend by my side.
My days were filled with missing him, while nights I'd lay and cry.
I know they are together now, in a place God made for them:
These happy creatures sent to earth to be my loyal friends.
I know their spirits run and play; nevermore will they know pain.
Because of this, despite my grief; I’d not wish them back again.
But I’ll remember each of them, through all my days that pass.
It's really hard for me to say, whose loved first and whose loved last?
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
This poem was inspired by the interviews by Earl K. Pollon and S. S. Matheson conducted with native Sekanni peoples who were negatively effected by the flooding of their communal homelands by the building of the W.A.C. Bennett Dam. “This Was Our Valley” tells that story of injustice. 640 square miles of riverfront and hunting territory would be flooded to form Williston Lake. The Sekanni peoples were driven from their ancestral homeland in northeastern British Columbia, Canada and dispersed.
The Shopping Cart Injustice
People, place and spirit
All were our relations
Biopeds, quadrupeds, winged or finned -
River language told us so.
Fishing rocks spoke the run
Where the riffles and the rapids talked.
Ancestors, dead and alive, told living stories where
Running the river banks, the children played.
The land was a book written in forms.
We made our mark with love, community
Fishing weirs, aspen dugout canoes,
Hunting trails, camps and sacred sites.
Always traders, we traded furs with
White settlers when they arrived
On the rivers Parsnip, Finlay and Peace at
Finlay Forks, Fort Grahame, Fort McLeod.
We added pack trains, teams of pack horses
River freighters, flat bottom ‘longboats’
For supplies and for mail delivery.
It seemed that we could live together.
Then one day a government agent said
That shopping carts were coming
They would flood our world
Water rising everywhere
Shopping carts with electric can openers
Full, fast to check out,
Shopping carts with electric hair blowers,
Full, faster to check out,
Shopping carts with electric air conditioners,
Full, fastest to check out
Shopping carts with electric stoves.
Check out, check out, check out.
They would make our rivers into a lake
We would move or drown.
Our elders did not believe it.
That was the only consultations!
Soon Saskatoon berries all under water
Next, the banks sloughed back to graveyards
Next, cliffs crumbled, and banks fell into rising lake
Houses of the villages slipped and floated
Coffins, bones and bodies strewed the shore
Where tangled trees, debris and more
Eddied with flotsam in the wind.
We wept for our ancestors!
We weep for our children.
We had to flee the destruction
Caused by tree grinders, D-9 bull dozers
The dam construction.
Now they want to take more
Another dam for more shopping carts.
Please stop Site ‘C’.
II.
I dedicate this to my future wife
In life we meet people when we least expect it, whether it be for a season or for more. Can it be love or lust? The answer is not known until both are placed into a situation to where they use their instinct to build the relationship. It is more confusing and takes work. Both parties will see the value in one another. When I first saw you, I did not know how to respond. You were wearing glasses and a neutral clam smile on your lips. Your buns were of modest size and your legs were nice in stance. Yes, I did fall in love with your body first. Later on, I would see more to you as you would be calm even when you were confused or focusing intently on your job. You did not speak; however, your words were in emotions and actions. Oh, how I wish I could kiss those emotions as they made me feel a warmth that no American girl could make me feel. I could not hear your words as I could only speak two languages; however, your language is of a different Latin branch. Still the kindness you showed to me was different. I never had a woman from a Latin country open the door for me, even when I had a cart on me. Your eyes are full of peace and joy. You have traveled far from a place that you loved; however, the tension going on down there has led you to come here. You mostly if not all speak Spanish. My one request is that we can speak more for I fancy the thought of learning about your life. Let the barrier break between us as I feel this magnetic surge towards you. You are a young woman that deserves to be happy, I only Hope that the person deserves your Heart for it is pure. If it is I, then I promise to make you smile and happy. All we can do is try. Does love to start blind or does it develop blindly. If we are the soulmates needing of one another then I ask God through my words for it to be so. Let my words through this prose shine as a beacon of light. May I say that I love your presence, and that I am beginning to love you. Every time you are near me, I linger longer and tend to take a longer glance at your presence. I feel a stir inside me to want to make you a wife and not just a coworker. I ask God if he could help us learn each other’s languages. Would it be great that if in two years we could say our vows in different languages. You are my Angel from Venezuela. Here’s a kiss to end the current night.
Momma
She doesn’t want to hear from me no more
I'm tired, she cried
Pointed me in a direction
But I see that door
Would it be selfish on my part
To grip her palms and ask for more?
Though it's not on her chest
She simply hopes that her customers tip the best
If I said she hated me
I wonder would she put these lips to rest
In this post digital life
I got an email from a past friend
Point the icon to reply
Started to type but I had no words to send
Like a small whisper it said love won't last
As if to hold my head I didn't bother to ask
Rub the hurt
To keep her above the dirt
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
Before you leave this story alone
Maybe there's something you could do
To piece together the worry at home
In moments that it really counted
I guess I just would not listen
At times when I should have softened
My heart did nothing but stiffen
I guess that's just the way life is
Think about what you love and lost
What was once yours was always his
I never saw her but once
But she never forgot
To send me peace on my birthday
Sometimes I wonder
Did she lose me in her worst ways
Then again
There isn’t much I can say
She tried
She held on the best she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
With a little help from you
We put together withered ends of a string
In better hope that one day, one of us
Would suffer once more to hear the other sing
Sometimes fantasies are life
But most of the time
You just want to find intimacy with your wife
I'm not trying to make amends
But it's all over when it ends
So love your child
Make your everyday float above his smiles
I couldn't sympathize for your illness
For every person maintains their own struggle
So wipe away your tears
Let us not become absorbed by the puddle
Keep doing what you do
no one can stop you from pursuing it but you
The consequences, the awards
I'll happily push my cart
Further down the morgue
So close your eyes
If I were to take my last breath
I'd still wish you the best
She tried
She held on with what she could
Until she died
I said I'd never shed a tear
But I lied
I took her hand and cried
It is very impressive to go westward
in an early morning of midwinter,
because you will see a full moon
that you have forgotten for a while
in the middle of the western sky.
[The westward moon is, perhaps,
the one that Li T’ai-Po
who was bewitched by
and delighted by a moon so much
chanted poems in praise of the moon
throughout his life,
after breaking a thick frozen ice on the lake,
scooped an August full moon
that is not sunken but still floating
on the surface of water,
and pasted it to the wintry sky.]
Although the air in my car is still cold as ice,
and roadside snow is being melted from salt spray
and messy, covered with splashes of dirty water,
the moon, like a virgin still chaste,
[By manmade machine and men,
the moon, though, lost her virginity long ago,]
looks immaculate and gorgeous as ever.
For the moon
riding high in the western sky
enjoying the honor and admiration that is entitled
only to virgin girls
though she lost it long ago,
the north wind,
because of her envy toward the moon,
was wandering in the frozen waste
pleasure driving a sheer-white chariot
brings a violent snowstorm,
and heartlessly shakes the moon
that barely hangs on the midwinter’s western sky
to fall.
After so much abuse,
kicks, stamps, smacks, and blows of violent wind
that of more than she can bear
the frightened moon flees to south, then to east
with her paled and waning face,
and finally disappears somewhere
where no one will able to find her.
Total darkness covers the earth,
overwhelms to deny everything.
At the edge of this darkness
a somewhat eerie looking hunchbacked creature
[Although he was much intelligent,
yet tenderhearted, a man more sensitive
than the worldly-minded ordinary persons,]
comes and searches for the disappeared moon,
and when he finds
a segment of a shattered piece of moon on the earth,
he embraces it in his bosom with tears of joy,
and falls to the ground with his last breath.
And as a hunchback perishes
a young man with more holes
than the shattered pieces of fallen moon in his rungs,
who always whispered sadly to the waning moon
while leaning against a southward window frame,
comes and carries the hunchback’s remains hurriedly
in the cart to an eastern gateway, with gasping,
to the place where the full moon dwells, with panting.
15.8
“Have faith, my son, have faith
You are Awareness alone
the Self, the One
You are the Lord of Nature”
15.9
“The body is made of worldly stuff
It comes, it lingers, it goes
The Self neither comes nor goes, yet remains
Why mourn the body?”
15.10
“If the body lasts until the end of time
or perishes today—
is there gain or loss for you?
You who are Awareness?”
15.11
“Let the waves of the universe rise and fall as they will
You have nothing to gain or lose
You are the ocean”
15.12
“You are the substance of Consciousness
The world is You
Who is it that thinks
he can accept or reject it?
And where does he stand?”
15.15
“Leave behind such distinctions
as “I am He, the Self,”
and “I am not this.”
Consider everything Self
Be desireless
Be happy”
15.16
“Your ignorance alone creates the universe
In reality One alone exists
There is no person or god other than You”
15.17
“One who knows for certain
that the universe is illusion,
a no-thing,
becomes desireless,
pure Awareness,
and finds peace in the existence of nothing”
The zone of deep silence
Beyond mind
Presence in self existence
Formless space aligned
(21-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Verses revisited on 02-December-2021
Let’s begin then, by exiting self-hypnosis
Enslavement to lower mind
Melding mind, soul, spirit, Perichoresis
Exiting narrow thoughts that bind
Our innate aliveness, where is it located
Is it in the head or the heart
Desire enmeshed thought, has us agitated
Until we add love to cart
Head and heart meld, in a stillness continuum
Devoid of thought, fears and desires recede
There remains in mind-body, no ego residuum
Layer by layer, erst habit patterns we weed
There is no thought, yet our awareness remains
Poised in the void in childlike wonderment
Soul cleansed of feral stains, measuring not gains
Magnetised, reveals innate essence luminescent
We may call this Holy Spirit, kundalini or grace
There is no one now within, to assign any label
In timeless time, we may see God face to face
Inner alignment being all it takes for this miracle
Becoming the answer, we need no translator
Yet the light that already is, we cannot transmit
Ceasing to be a doer, as a humble receptor
Know God in-dwells all, when we cease to resist
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
You pushed me to drink the love potion (for many years)
You let me go and I was rolling away in the death cart
Now, I’m hearing the echoes of commotion (in my ears)
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
Take a breath, look at me…don’t you see my misery?
The scent of death – I smell the odor seeping out of your mouth…
I cover my nose…I’m feeling down, sucking up my emotional debris
I am not a coward and I am not scared of you – you made me love you
I’m through with you…I gave up on you – you made me weep tears of rue
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
I’d like to know why you do the things you do
I understand addiction – I’ve been through it too
I’d like to say before I depart from your arms
I will not…I will not…fall victim to your charms
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart…
Take a breath, look at me…don’t you see my misery?
You broke my young heart apart…take heart…
The scent of death – I smell the odor seeping out of your mouth…
I cover my nose…I’m feeling down, sucking up my emotional debris
Do you even see the tears rolling out of my eyes?
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
You really think that I’m a weakling? Didn’t you see my triumphantly soar?
(I don’t feel sorry for you…you attention whore – why were you the one I
adore?)
I am not a coward and I am not scared of you – you made me love you
I know my heart is breaking bit by bit, but I’m stronger that I was before
(I’m not sore anymore – I don’t love you anymore…you hurt me to the core,
but I opened a new door)
I’m through with you…I gave up on you – you made me weep tears of rue
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
Why am I so indecisive? I should’ve dropped you in the nearest trash bin
long ago
But I’ll forget and forgive the past and heal my brokenhearted soul – I’ll pull
out the bad tooth
WHY AM SO FOOLISHLY IN LOVE WITH YOU? I don’t even know where the
wicked wind do blow
But, I know for a fact that you’ll never meet me eye to eye and tell me the
truth
Pound to the rhythm of my heart…my heart… (oooh…oooh…x3)
She came upon me in a dream deep down from within my destination
Which coursed the mind and soul of years for my memories' inspiration
The path was crowded with bouncing hooves and wagons decorated
With fantasies ornaments adoration painted with merriment unabated
Echoes' subconscious sound of wild horses drawing cart wheels' canter
A symphony's reminder of nectar's flow from a coloured glass decanter
Bewildered I reminisced on sentiments nostalgia and what lies ahead
Fanfares of homeliness adventure passion to pounding of a drumhead
Heated stallions ran wild with mares and took my innate flight of fancy
Less trodden though in modern times a covert path offered me fragrant tansy
Potions of wild garlic lavender and bouquets of aromatic blue sage scent
I grabbed the message by the horns and galloped to my heart's content
One face stood out and reached my fired feelings as I took off one blinker
A nomad girl dressed in rags whistles bells whom you might call a tinker
Olive skin and amber eyes beyond all reason teasing all sensual needs
Her hair like forests full of tangles I must touch her locks lest she proceeds
Around her neck dangled an amulet crafted from ivory and ancient oak
Grant me a whiff of freedom give me one chance to embrace and stroke
The skin's wilderness and passion which may save me from my strife
A single breath or little smooch from cherry lips to give me the kiss of life
She shone as bright as ruby petals and took her path along the lane
Of elderberry flower and hawthorn hedges which made me go insane
Her chest adorned with orange curves she wore a crown of quince
She's been imprinted on my summer screen for more and ever since
And still the magic rings hooked on her ears of nectarine shaped silver
Stir the image when I hear a voice singing the praise and beauty of her
A scintillating Roma bride sculpted from nature of the purest sense
Prophesy omen oracle and metaphor in one quite magically intense
When sunshine arises red and purple with violins and tambourine
I pinch the moon in thanks for right next to me slumbers my Fairy Queen
Once upon a time I handed her a golden peach an oath and sacred bond
She calls herself a gypsy and kindly waves to me with her magic wand
11th April 2020
These are the times you wish
you could pack it all up and be a kid again:
Take me away from the Now
and into the Then
(that's where I wish to descend)
Back when it was all so crystal clear-
just one emotion to steer the gears,
whether wafflewonder days
or weepywillow nights
(no nuance, no twilight)
Just perfect joys and poignant fears.
Happiness like butterflies-in-sunshine,
hopscotch-in-the-rain;
sadness a gray cloud to shut out the world
(the dust getting blown away, like autumn leaves,
from Monopoly)
The world was something to See.
Yourself someone to Be.
From the moment the eye closed
to the instant it opened...
... resurrection.
The monsters were beneath the bed, or in the closet--
(never once hiding in our reflection)
No possessions to speak of or concern us,
but we had Gold in our laugh,
a Sharpness to our gaze,
and a Sureness to our step,
from one emotion to the next
with no discernible causation.
"I am HERE!" shouted the feeling
without hesitation
(this, of course, the norm
before they gathered in committees
to make a sensible decision)
We were Fireflies--
sometimes on,
sometimes off ... but we always BURNED.
Didn't care a lick about the darkness
that grew weary of our light;
because we said what we meant
and meant what we said
(didn't hide from the Truth--
we were already free
to be Me,
to be You)
But the years soon passed as they so often do.
The adrenaline rush to adulthood finally came,
I can see it peak over the horizon
(...but I'm not Roller-coaster Ready...)
Yet here I descend into that maelstrom
where the colors twist and blur with every turn, jolting us here, jolting us
there
into that rickety reality,
reminding us our mortality
(Death just sitting there smiling that ancient fear)
We are all of us, strapped to the cart,
with nothing but our beating hearts.
And no one knows where it's going, but we're here.
Arms raised high until we die
(at least that's what my intuition is showing)
--
I now wave to the school bus
filled with adults-in-waiting
wishing I didn't know what I know
(someday soon,
perchance tomorrow, perchance the next,
that sunflower certainty
is sure to go)
"You're all too young
to not take in the sun.
Don't shed a tear,
enjoy it while it's here."
From birth to death, each of us walks alone,
in as a narrative we wish to feel,
thus as we embrace, release and atone,
we rely on God’s love and light to heal.
In a subject-object relationship,
we believe ourself to be feeble form
and engaged in games of one-upmanship,
earth life for most part, is a turbid storm.
We know not who we are and yet live on,
in pursuit of ephemeral desires
and so it continues, both praise and scorn,
until the day our exhausted heart tires.
Shifting horizons now hold no appeal,
somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal.
Somewhat diminished is our zest and zeal,
discovering our efforts were in vain,
upon which in altar of God we kneel,
praying love and light glows in heart again.
Recognising that we script not our fate,
shifting into silence, we become still,
making our heart once more, childlike and chaste,
that by grace divine, voids within may fill.
Having thus relinquished our thought flow crutch,
we surrender, melding head with our heart,
ingraining direct wisdom by soul’s touch,
mindfully choosing to add love to cart.
Emptiness then, is the way to begin;
cave of heart’s open, so we go therein.
Cave of heart’s open, so we go therein,
remaining aware with nary a care,
whereupon we feel magnetism plug-in,
cajoling our polarities to pair.
As a receptor, there’s nothing we do,
for to be truthful, there is no road map
and each nuance felt is pristine and new,
drawing us to God by closing the gap.
We shout from the rooftops but no one hears,
unable to comprehend the bliss flame,
held in benign currents, God Himself steers,
revealing deep wisdom that has no name.
In a realm dual, in bondage to mind,
we know not the truth, because we are blind.
We know not the truth, because we are blind
but now having seen, with our inner eye,
we cognise God is wise, loving and kind,
known if we agree to let ego die.
We cling to identity, which is not,
in as it is merely a thought construct
but on shifting to heart, as we all ought,
our false self dies, we see it self-destruct.
It is clear that although monks wish to share,
the wisdom sublime, they have so imbibed,
those who refuse to see, just cannot pair,
enslave by ego, which has always lied.
Harvest of grace is reaped, as of seeds sown;
from birth to death, each of us walks alone.