Understanding...Pamfil, Kearl, Wyman, deLuca = Day 19 aaduna's NPM Celebration


On their 2,000th birthday
the Greek gods grow green
and their lapis encrusted eye
is sightless—

unsighted thus
they gaze in Gaza
through a vacant eye
(the other)
and put out a once youthful
lay your best thought here
and your most fiery request!

carried ashore by Poseidon’s
trapped in a fisherman’s mesh
silent-sea-green Apollo lies
on a needy child’s bed-spread

two fingers severed by his captors
who hope that gold is hidden
in his flesh

© 2014 Judita Pamfil                         
Port Hope, Ontario, Canada   
Judita Pamfil, (photo provided)

* * *


I used to hear the fairies wings fly through my backyard but now the grass is silent as still as a tree.
I used to see the dragon hiding in the tree, playfully nipping me as I climbed, but now the dragon has left me and I sit there all alone.
I used to dance with the elves underneath the bright moonlight, our joyful laughter echoing all night long. But now the elves are hiding, though all night I search for them.
I used to run with unicorns, they hid in the woods nearby. We’d go on grand adventures and journey cross the sea. But now when I cry for them to come, they just run farther away.
I used to sing with the nymphs and play on their harps. Doing each other’s hair we let the day passed by. But now when I come to our favorite spot, there is only grass and flowers.
I used to fly across the sky, soaring like a phoenix; traveling to parts unknown, untouched by human feet. But now my wings are clipped, my feet grounded to the earth.
I used to go to my kingdom, hiding behind the shed. Ruling the people gracefully and riding my horse all day long. But now when I go to visit, I cannot find the door.
I used to be free to see mysteries untold but now I’m trapped in never-ending darkness, my wonder nearly gone.

© 2014 Natasha Kearl                                   
West Jordan, Utah   

Natasha Kearl (photo provided)


* * *

Squaring the Circling Way

No photos exist for those days,
the ones leaning into each other
as our bodies sought out spaces
where we both could be
and old lives fell away as old ways will
when the stretch into new
forms a view on the world.

For this town was our world:
a lake, a dog chasing down a piece of tree.
And we found our way finally
to the home made bed,
ringed round with glass,
the mirror, old image, paned way out.

That room became a crucible
where we distilled what would remain -
that which we’ve beaded out
these last four years
bright to behold and molten to the touch,
molding what will not lie still
but circles round, searching out its own tale.

© 2014 Sarah Wyman                        
Hudson Valley, New York     

Sarah Wyman (photo provided)

* * *

Pure Bliss

Let the land open in a field of spring,
lotuses, tulips, daisies, and irises
compose a picture of serenity.

The soft-spoken are heard outside their shells.
A window leads to another world of sound and sight.
Like Buddha, compassion is all that’s left.

Nature survives amongst the heavens.
Radiance vibrates throughout everything we see,
like a beauty its rawness, a truth in all of us.

Buddhahood exists in the path of which we seek.
A thumping wildness in every part of us,
more than tranquil waters coursing through us.

We’ve shaped ourselves to the soil,
nurturing wholesomeness that flourishes inside.
We thrive in the rain and sunlight,

memories tell no tales of woe and rage.
A flutter of souls departs from our caged creation. 
Wisdom emerges from our sage selves.

We transcend the cycle of suffering,
a mind in mindfulness not forgotten.
Not adrift but resolute in faith unwavering,

we’re blessed with the gifts bestowed upon us,
in a world so pristine we choose jubilation,
a vision that blooms in each brightening day.

© 2014 Olivia Lin DeLuca                
Levittown, Pennsylvania

Olivia Lin DeLuca (photo provided)

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