I Am the Sun

img_3402-i-am-the-sun-1-22-17

When the sky darkens
With the approaching storm,
When the sky darkens
With the fading day,
I will not retreat.

When the shouts drown out the smiles
And children stop being happy,
When sadness becomes infectious
And metastasizes into gloom,
I will not despair.

When the numbers overwhelm
And all feelings become scary,
When all lose forever all hope
And desperation paints all into corners,
I will not surrender.

When heavy rains turn creeks into torrents
Of heavy brown turbulent mud
That erodes both earth and lives,
I will not get swept away.

When death and its stench
Foul the land and our nostrils,
When sobbing is the only
Sound greeting the morning,
I will not stop living.

I will not succumb
To all the hells that have been
To all the hells all around me
To all the hells that will be.

I am burning bright even in darkest night
Glowing above the most terrifying storm
Not dimmed by events on Earth or in sky;
My eternal joy, hope and optimism burn
Stronger than mere dogma, fear, and power.

I am the sun.

© 2017 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Sky, Sun, and Earth (Windfall Road, January 21, 2017)

‘Round and ‘Round: My Final Choice (Playin’ With Trains)

Windfall Feb 4 2015 288

‘Round and ‘round
The Lionel train went
On
The oval track
On
This 13 year-old’s bedroom floor.

Daily, I would stop playin’ with trains,
Disconnect the power pack,
Open my closet door,
Then
Gather the footstool
I had made in shop class
And
Climb onto my gallows
As
I threw the pack
Over the door’s top
And slammed it shut,
Then
Fashioned the cord
Into
Yet another noose
I tightened ‘round my neck.

‘Round and ‘round,
I debated my sentence;
My own condemned man
Tried and convicted
By a judge and a jury
Who shared
My name and my shame
At having
Failed,
Failed,
Failed.

Did I make my final choice?
Did I kick away the stool?
Of course not,
But I never knew for sure
Each time
As I felt so free
In those twilights of my life.

I courted not death then,
But only the promise of being gone
Like Dad;
Only quicker
And not at cancer’s hand.

At 19, a razor I held in my right hand,
The veins in my left arm
Bulging one May morning.
Gone was my Lionel train,
Gone was my mother,
Gone was my family,
Gone was my home,
Gone was my innocence,
Gone was my hope;
All taken away by false saviors.

Alone with the Angel of Death
In a rented room
On Sherwood Street,
I overheard children laughing
On the sidewalk
On their way to school.

‘Round and ‘round,
I saw hellish faces
Of the children and the adults
Who had sent me to Hell’s Door;
I imagined their voices,
And once again felt
Every inflicted pain.

The blade that now scratched me
Was hungry for more of me;
But then I saw
My hand,
And only my hand,
Grasping the razor
As if the steel was
Part of my body;
As if the steel
Was my salvation.

My razor hand was all mine;
No one else’s;
They had all
Taken my everything
Then
Threw me away.

Me?
I had given myself a razor;
Just a razor?

Me?
I had given myself a final choice;
I had chosen death?

Me?
This is what I decided
In response to pain,
In response to suffering,
In response to emptiness
While children walked to school
That sunny morning?

Questions on the edge
Of self-destruction,
Queries from the doomed
That I had never before
Asked now blew apart
My mind and my plans.

The choice now made,
I lowered the useless razor,
I put salve and bandages
On my scratches,
Then embraced
The incredible power that came
From having finally chosen life
Moments before self-annihilation.

Strength is knowing
That
I stepped back from death;
That
I retreated from my brink
Without parents,
Without friends,
Without family,
Without anyone else
But me
And only me.

I alone
(All alone)
Lowered my hand,
Discarded that razor,
Claimed my body and my life,
Becoming alive from that moment onward.

‘Round and ‘round,
Almost four decades hence,
I recall that day
And rejoice with bliss
At the numerous liberations,
At the endless adventures,
At the myriad loving journeys,
At the continuing evolution
I have embraced;
All built upon the foundation
Of my final choice.

 

December 14 2015 Windfall 251

(In a N5 Caboose on The Polar Express with Lillian in December, 2015.)

 

Edmonds Oct 7 2015 058

(In a Superliner on The Empire Builder with Kathy in October, 2015)

 

February 6 2015 Windfall 130

(In a Superliner on The Southwest Limited with David and Alyssa in  July, 1998)

 

How Black this Wind That Calls Me: The Dolphin and Temperance

PHL NOvember 11 2015 066

How black this wind
That calls me
With grass so gray
And sky of ash,
How its cold roar
(Not like that of a lion,
But more an endless avalanche)
Of increasing weight
Binding,
Binding,
Binding
My soul.

It is all too easy now
To forget that I embraced magic,
That Angels had invited me
To their eternal dance,
And that miracles once
Were pebbles on my path.

A younger more foolish me
Back then, I rallied against
Such an oppressive blanket
By tossing it off in masculine anger
And
Running,
Running,
Running
With all my being, all my might
Into the black wind that called me
As I turned
Fear into rage into mastery.

Now, I
Meditate,
Meditate,
Meditate.

Dolphin and Temperance
Come to me.

The Dancing Angels
Tell me to allow the wind
To push me up, down
Along the dead grasses
And invite the sharp air
Into these lungs
And, smile, smile, smile.

I am The Dolphin:
Breathing,
Breathing,
Breathing.

I am Temperance:
Allowing,
Allowing,
Allowing.

I am again magic
In the black wind.

I am again dancing
With The Angels
In the black wind.

I am again miracles
In the black wind.

Montreal (Stuck)

October 28 2015 Windfall 091

Montreal (Stuck)
By John David Higham
Traveling to Montreal in dreamland,
I lived a life of possibilities then;
Of a spacious home in which I wandered about
In the early morning light
As the sun arrived, illuminating mansions and skyscrapers.
Meals were made as my family gathered;
Stories and jokes retold.

Then, morning arrived
Bringing in the mundane waking world
As annoyance rapidly blossomed.

Stuck:
A thousand times yes into maybe into no into never, never, never
As possibilities dropped from the sky as if leaden flocks of birds
That brought their lifeless heaviness into my heart.

Stuck
So quickly the ground beneath my running feet softened,
Swallowing me up to my waist,
My every movement hastening my inertia.

Ones are bad now and I see them all around me:
Tasks daunting, even the pleasurable ones.
People annoying, even the intriguing ones.
Obligations overwhelming, even the simplest ones.

Stuck
Stuck
Stuck…

Might I be still and surrender to the quicksand of my thoughts
Creating perfect reasons to become even more daunted, annoyed, and overwhelmed?
Going neither left or right, forward or backward?

I embrace this muck clinging to my soul;
My mind continues producing multiple webs
Of knotted tangles that form a dark soaked fabric
Now covering my head as I submerge further into my living grave.

Who has done this to me, I wonder.
How did this evolution take place?
Such useless questions give rise to nothing.

I am nothing when stuck.
I am not serene, I am not alive.
Stuck is not stillness, but freezing.
Freezing is not surrendering,
But the soul’s suicide.

I go back.
I go back to Montreal,
Returning to the feeling I was
When I looked out and watched the sun begin
The city’s day; the dream world’s breakfast
Filling my senses with anticipation of nourishment.

A stir of amusement passes through my consciousness like a leaf drifting by on the wind.
I am the leaf.
I am the wind.
I am the muck…

And, then my soul breaks free;
It dances
As my poem makes the birds
Once again fly and returns me
To Montreal…

Love and Gentleness (The Day Before the Day Before)

October 23 2015 024 Cropped

The
Day before
The
Day before,
As
I sat in my den
On
My meditation pillow,
A
Deer visited
Me
During my daily card reading.

A
Totem
Of
Gentle heroism,
Of
Tenderness
And
Patience,
It
Eased into my soul.

“Be gentle to you,”
She
Said as she stood
In
My mind’s eye.

Gentleness:
Patience
Fully embraced,
Love
Sprinkled with tact.

Ah, love!
The
Same morning ritual
Directed
Me to embrace
The
Overflowing Chalice,
The
Endless gifts of love,
Its
Eternal power
To
Heal, bond, evolve.

“Why, of course,”
I
Reasoned to myself,
“This
Is how I live!”
These
Cards were affirmations
And
Nothing more.

Oh, that
Day
Before
The
Day
Before
Soon
Brought upon my path
So
Many varieties
Of
Frustration
(From
Both self and others)
As
I felt my pulsing rising
With
Self-blaming
At
Not having accomplished
All
I had set out to do,
All
I had determined to do,
All
That had to complete.

Frustration
Upon
Frustration
Built
As calls went unanswered,
Things
Broken stubbornly refused repair,
And
All plans slowly froze
Into
A crescendo of nagging inertia
And
Incompleteness
As
Too many clocks kept ticking.

Those cards, reminders
Of
That morning’s contemplation,
Sat
Near my meditation pillow
And
My peripheral eyes
Did
Catch sight of them
As
I hurried past in the hall.

Instead
Of giving myself
Into
Further disappointment
Or
Allowing assertiveness
To
Flare into self-aggression,
I
Stopped.
I
Stopped
And
Sat on the meditation pillow.
I
Meditated
And
Recalled the lessons
Of
The overflowing chalice
And
The still deer.

Thus reminded
Of
Myself beyond
The
Niggling waking world,
I
Allowed myself
To
Be an imperfect human
And
Feel rejoice (AGAIN)
In
The perfect gifts
Of
Love and gentleness.

Embracing laughter,
I
Visited my logic
And
Realized
I had accomplished
Much;
I had done all
That
I could given
All
That filled my path.

I must endeavor
To
Allow myself
To know
Love and gentleness
As
Lasting gifts
From
The
Day before
The
Day before.

Breaking Gravity (Breaking Drag)

PHX to PHL to ELM October 11 2015 028

Held down by our heaviness,
The drag of our inertia,
The weight of our fears,
The burden of our baggage,
We stay tight to our world.
We fight to remain not only grounded
But so firmly attached to our idea of life
That movement is impossible.

In the laws of spiritual metaphysics,
Propulsion and lift
Overcome
Gravity and drag.

Propel, propel, propel!
Allow yourself
To
Be propelled
By all you have achieved,
By the infinite ways
You’ve
Survived and thrived
When
Measured ONLY against you!
Allow yourself
To
Be propelled
By the love and other gifts
You
Are giving!
Allow yourself
To
Be propelled
By your drive to be, love, and grow!

Lift, lift, lift!
Allow yourself
To
Be lifted
By those who love you
Whether
They be animal, human, or spirit!
Allow yourself
To
Be lifted
By the gifts you are receiving!
Allow yourself
To
Be lifted by those who
Believe in you (even when you won’t)!

Build your runway
From your dreams
To run down
At full speed,
With all your passion,
With all your energy,
With all your faith and surrender!

Sleek and streamlined,
Feel the air glide
Over
Your body, mind, soul, and life
And create a cushion beneath you:
Watch your wheels lift off,
Watch your ground break away,
Watch your old world fall away,
And
Watch your sky approach!

I Apologize 2 No 1

September 26 2015 111

I Apologize
2no1
4 being
Even IF.

I apologize
2no1
4 being
Even IF
My being makes
U uncomfortable.

I apologize
2no1
4 living beyond
My past pain
4 loving beyond
My past loves
Even IF
U can’t embrace that.

I apologize
2no1
4 not being good enough
4 not being man enough
4 not being nurturing enough
Even IF
U can’t honor my path.

I apologize
2no1
4 knowing souls
4 dancing with spirits
4 experiencing other’s feelings
Even IF
That scares
U
And doesn’t fit
In your narrow mind.

I apologize
2no1
4 being like a tree
4 reaching skyward
4 growing deeper my roots
Even IF
U can’t be inspired,
U can’t grow, and
U can’t be alive.

I apologize
2no1
4 being a grounded dreamer
4 writing my soul
4 the worlds inside my head
Even IF
U judge,
U mock, and
U condemn.

I apologize
2no1
4 really loving me
Even IF
U r envious
U can’t be a miracle, and
U can’t embrace miracles.

I apologize
2no1
4 embracing bliss
Even IF
U flock to pain,
U welcome hurt, and
U seek out disappointment.

I apologize
2no1
4 honoring U
4 honoring your path,
Even IF
U can’t give 2 me
The same honors.

The Lynx, The King, The World (Lights within Shining)

July 14 2015 Sedona and Phoenix 093

The lynx, the king, the world
(Lights within shining):
No simple trio,
These three
Making themselves known
In
A brilliant burst
Of
Light
Like a volcanic rainbow
Descending
From the Heavens,
Ascending
From the Earth:
Heaven to Earth,
Earth to Heaven
Celestial current
Passing through
Me,
A spiritual wire my body.

Behold
The spirit manifesting
The lynx,
The king,
The world.

The lynx, the king, the world
(Voices within calling):
Asking within
Telling within
Showing within
Faster and faster
The insights they bring
Tickle my consciousness
And
Move me beyond thinking
Move me beyond knowing
Move me beyond the mundane
And
Immerse me
In the profound stillness
Of this moment unending.

The lynx, the king, the world
(Awareness within emerging):
The secrets within
The secrets without
The secrets of past
The secrets of now
I
See in the faces
Of
Strangers no more,
I
Hear in the unspoken whispers
Of
Wounded children healing,
I
Touch in the flesh
Of
Still weeping souls.

The lynx, the king, the world
(Trumpets within blaring):
The song within
The dance within
The wonder within:
Be aware
How it connects
The you
To
The me
Vibrating
Vibrating
Vibrating like waves
Across
This universe’s spectrum.

The lynx, the king, the world
(Wonder within growing):
The eternal immersion
In
The
World of wonder
So
Taken by the what ifs,
So
Taken by the how thens,
So
Taken by the new worlds
Opening
All around me.
I,
No longer the hermit
No longer ashamed
No longer desperate
No longer
The lone
Prisoner
Of
My prisoner’s perspective:
HA
HA
HA!

The lynx, the king, the world
(Limbs within moving):
Dancing among abundance
Celebrating
All
That is good,
All
That is right,
All
That is blissful
As
The tower collapses
And
Brings
Evolution,
Bliss,
Redemption.

Who I Was Is Not My Dawn

Who I Was 6 17 15

Who I Was
Is Not My Dawn

Who I was
Is not my dawn
He has died now
I must grieve.

Who I was
Is not my dawn
His eyes seeing fear
When looking about.

Who I was
Is not my dawn
His ears listening
For intruders hidden.

Who I was
Is not my dawn
His mind building
Cages for his soul.

Who I was
Is not my dawn
His body is cold
On this humid morn.

Who I was
Is not my dawn
The service over
And dirt shoveled.

I am my own dawn
I am not afraid of me
Wherever my path
Will be.