Sun-block for my son’s tiny face and legs
And we walk up, up
Singing in the heat and light--
Sweet water on the Baby Buddha
Upright under flowered eaves--
Having already forgotten reason
for such a journey,
Having lost all hope to life
Made more pure and blessed.
Under the tiny raised finger rises my son’s earnest face,
awash in bloom. The world, alone and honored,
That’s us and him: all one, all once upon this time,
Together under heaven, for the bright mind is found by all things.
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A personal, practical search for what was never lost: the sanctity of each moment; the profound presence of the physical body; the kindliness of the human heart; the interreflections of psyche and nature.
What Is It?
This blog spans many years of personal inquiry, from early days as a lay Zen trainee at an American Zen Monastery, to more recent times as a Dharma practitioner and parent in suburbia.
The latest offerings aren't exactly poems. I am just trying to tell the truth in the simplest way I know how, paying attention to phrasing and the sounds of language.
All text © 2013 unless attributed otherwise. Do not use without permission.
Eye of Shu
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