Archives for posts with tag: blessing


today’s blessing

is it possible to be thankful for too much
to say, this isn’t what I asked for, perhaps
it’s not mine, that label on the package
that says, “You,” may not mean “Me?”

why not pass this along, I ask, this isn’t
my problem, let those who created it
deal with it, I didn’t make it, don’t tell me
what to do, but is it possible I’d listen?

maybe we should all be thankful for what
flattens us, road kill in the highway of
high speed life, or is it possible to say
thank you, even if it goes against us?

today fills our cup, anoints our head before
our enemies, and it does that so we realize
we’re not really enemies, we may not be one
but does that really matter to our humanity?

Isn’t this the time for us to be thankful
for each other, how we heal each other
despite our fear, how you care for me
as I smile past the distance of touch?

what joy as I behold your face
you, who are unlike anyone else
as we stand on the knife edge together
shall we be thankful, you and me?

blessing

may all your towers Eiffel slowlike
and may the snow from skies be scant
Oh and may your peasant wicker basket
be filled with long, rich loaves and
deep aromatic cheeses from creameries of
the lowlands And may your bicycle hamper
clink and joggle weighed down with Chiantis
I hope you may sleep drunken upon
Baudelaire’s tomb wrapt warmly in a blanket
with your arms around a slightly drunken woman
dreams and dew competing in the morning
to be the first to kiss your eyelids

poetry by Ian David Arlett, graphic by Ward Maxwell

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