The Owls Still Live

Night Owl

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The Owls Still Live

By Jane Tawel

October 24, 2022

*

And as yet once again, and then again,

I lie, restless and unsleeping, yet not unafraid

in a bed not of roses, and while sometimes of thorns,

still a bed that holds me

in the sticky web of memories,

but no longer of any hopes.

And I don’t know why,

but all I know is that neither medication nor meditation

are the answer,

because the answer is no longer relevant.

An answer is only possible in the short-run,

and an answer is only as good as the Test-Maker,

and mine has showed His hand,

and I won’t be fooled again.

*

I hear the omen-call outside my window.

And myths say now it won’t be long,

won’t be long.

And yet my humanity,

so deeply entrenched since I was a child,

still listens to like calling like.

And my heart longs to believe that

even when the night is darkest,

that Like will once more call to me

as like unto Himself.

*

The canticle goes on and on,

a duet between two unseen flights of fancy.

And I can’t believe it, but it’s true,

for hours I lie awake and listen, and

the one never gives up,

no matter how long the other pauses or hesitates.

No, He never stops sending signals

of love-calls to her,

and no matter how dark the night,

like answers Like.

*

I don’t know anything anymore,

neither sleeping nor awake,

but only this –

just outside my bedroom window — 

the owls still live.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

Untitled by Anonymous

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Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here

By Jane Tawel

September 16, 2022

*

She is not here now.

And when you let her in,

again and again,

you reveal your true insanity.

Not being part of

any true reality,

her presence has driven you mad.

*

He is not in this space.

But you have flung open

the entrances to your mind,

and now you have to face the fact,

that though you have allowed

the thief of your peaceful thoughts

almost constant habitation there,

he is dead,

(or would be if you killed him).

Allow him to die an honorable death.

Kill him gently

without leaving too much blood

on the floors in your house,

and then clean up the mess.

Remember he only came because you bid him come

and then blamed him for leaving grey scum

on the walls of your mind’s home.

He does not live here today,

and need not live in the home of your heart

any more.

*

They come disguised as cleaning crews,

or helpful guests and family,

pretending to help

with the cleaning-up of calamities

or of my misunderstandings,

but my need for them, not withstanding,

it is a relationship of lies.

For thoughts are just a house of cards,

if peopled by things one cannot see with eyes,

or hear alive in the world that exists outside the mind,

or touch with skin to skin,

feeling the softness of your cheek or the cheek of a ripe peach,

or made with something I can taste or drink

or move with the circles of my speech.

All that would dwell in the shadows

of my darkened house, filled with the

blood-suckers that would steal awakening joy,

these are nothing more

than dust motes of past emotions,

or the fogs that roll in from the future but don’t stay — 

Oh, all of this is nothing of me

in just this place — this day.

Yes, I have invited all of you not really here,

under false pretenses.

But trying to make you feel at ease as my mind’s guests,

serving your phantasmagorical hungers

from the hard labors

of the meals of my perceptions and attachments,

I feel like an alien in my own home.

The people I let in,

who do not really live here in my space,

are dirty and rude

because I allow them

to mess up that within

the home of my heart

and that which should be hallowed

in the hallways of my mind,

and still I find

it is hard to say good-bye to them.

And all that is meant to be preserved for my good,

is filled with the flood,

and mud of thinking on and on and on

about things that are not present now.

*

Do not let them in; they are not here.

Kick them all to the curb;

and prohibit them from

the treasure-room of yourself.

Those who used to live here,

or have not yet been born to you,

must take their place

with the other hallucinations

that your mind would create.

We all hear voices.

And yet, we do not stop our ears,

against those who would crash us on the shores,

of wasted energy and emotions

of all and anything that is not love.

Why, oh why, do we feel guilt,

when we release those

who do not live with us today,

those which we would cling to from yesterday,

or yearn or fear for in our tomorrows,

tomorrows which should remain unimagined?

We must stop our remembering

and our imagining,

as we dream of and with only those present,

in the here and now,

dreaming them in the reality of today.

*

Let all of them,

all but your best present-presence,

and that which is only alive in you for just this day,

leave your home,

and live where they belong,

in the house of the dead.

Let those who are not here,

take-up their residence where they belong,

and reside no more in your now

where only you

can see God and live.

Yes, there is enough space for only you,

your very present God, and you,

your home, which is yourself.

Be still

and only know this moment

and only in this moment, know

the Truth.

And let all others go.

Set them free.

So that your true self

is not housed,

but truly sheltered.

And Love will then

find plenty of room,

to fill the empty spaces,

that ghosts and chimeras have left behind.

In your home,

may all your past and future

no longer look to you

for tents of understanding build on bogs.

And in the only place you ever need,

the place in you that you call home,

the home that is yourself,

may you live forever-now

in peace.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

How Do I?

by Jane Tawel

“Ocean Wave” by smhowell2 is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

How Do I?

By Jane Tawel

September 9, 2022

*

How do I stop blaming myself?

Renaming myself in a thousand ways?

How can I listen

to the tides of my dreams?

And though they may seem

just a whisper — a nudge — 

how do I let my soul

roll with the waves that

The Ocean would send my way?

*

I have one name,

One name.

And I will play only the good kind of games,

like a child I will play in the now.

And I will neither blame nor shame — 

and though I may not know exactly how,

I will not project nor expect nor attain

any thing that will harm you or me.

No, not any of you,

nor any of me

will I stop from the Flow of The Ocean.

I will see only who we can be — 

You and me — 

as I seek to become

and to be and be

One.

© Jane Tawel 2022

Set Us Free

A Poem by Jane Tawel

“Monarchs in motion” by farflungphotos is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

Set Us Free

By Jane Tawel

September 3, 2022

*

Set me free from the future.

Set me free from the past.

Set me free to live into

The Truth that will last.

*

Set me free from stagnation.

Set me free from my needs.

Set me free to change wholly,

and to set new dreams free.

*

Set me free by forgiveness

of the great and the small,

and as I forgive others,

may I forgive myself, all.

*

Set me free from the prison

that only I can create,

by attachment to anger

and fear, grief, and hate.

*

Let me open the prison doors

and free memories’ hostages.

Give me strength to release,

tomorrow from bondages.

And when I would put

heart or mind back in jail,

May The Spirit of Love for All Life,

fast prevail.

*

Freedom is not a longing

for nothing to lose,

Nor is being free, gain

for the ego to use.

Freedom is never greedy,

nor self-serving, nor fearful.

Freedom is never needy,

but in needlessness, cheerful.

*

Freedom is the soul’s seeking

of Love’s peace that will still

any hurt, fear, or longing

and by Grace, all is healed.

*

Oh Creator, of heaven and earth and of All,

May my spirit be freed from the sins of The Fall.

Let me claim my true power that by You, I’m designed,

to be free to create in me, new life divine.

*

May I free those who’ve hurt me

and forgive once — and all.

May resentment and bitter seed,

take no root in my soul.

*

Daily let me forgive

those I know and in general.

And as I forgive freely,

make my joy and love plentiful.

*

Oh, True Life is just waiting!

Our souls long to be free!

When I loose bonds of judgement,

I free God in you and in me.

*

May I use my soul’s freedom

for true care to employ.

And God, moment by moment

set my soul free for joy.

*

May my soul find true freedom

in The God who is One.

May our souls be united,

in only Truth, which is Love.

*

May I trust in The Word

that brings Heaven to Now.

And though I don’t know how,

let my faith become strong,

that I live now, in God’s freedom,

and for all my days long.

*

Let my daily prayer be:

Set me free.

Set him free.

Set her free.

Set them free.

Set us free,

Dear Creator,

Oh, Dear God,

set us free.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Pre-Dawn and I

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Pre-Dawn and I

https://unsplash.com/photos/gapRs3zsdg0

*

Pre-Dawn and I

By Jane Tawel

August 10, 2022

*

And just like that — 

And as I was looking down — 

with barely an upward glance,

Light snuck around,

the edges of the dark.

*

Oh, the hours are too often filled,

with lists and pages of words;

but if perchance,

you happen to glance up,

at just the moment, when

Light makes her slow entrance on the stage,

Then drop the page you hold,

and breathe deeply in and out

and listen to the drumbeat of your heart,

welcoming the Dawn.

*

This pre-dawn as I sat,

and worried over Time-past,

and of course, as always I do,

fretted over the Time-not-come,

the Present Moment snuck-up on me,

and I looked up and out, not down and in.

The veil of dark pulled back.

And though I had just a peek,

I caught Light in the act,

of once again confirming,

with just a narrow band, still grey,

that soon the Sun would rise, in full array,

and with a bit of hopefulness,

I knew that Dawn was on its way.

*

Oh, the night is filled with strangers and friends,

and even though you let them in, they are not there.

I have determined not to speak, nor listen,

with those who would intrude upon my thoughts,

but are not in this place or time.

Oh, Universal Love of me and All,

help me to honor You by being awake,

to all that dawns upon me, both by day and night.

Help me to listen with a heart full of love,

to early morning birds,

and the scrambling of lizards in the heat of the day.

In moments that manage,

to sneak away from me,

I shall return to myself,

and quiet myself.

I will listen

to the dove’s song,

and the hushing of leaves in trees.,

and to the miracle of my own beating heart.

And I shall watch the Light and Dark,

dance their dance,

and kiss each other in the great Romance,

of all that is lovely in the Presence of the Now.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

What Will I Do with Love Today?

What Will I Do with Love Today?

By Jane Tawel

July 21, 2022

“Clouds — Summer 2014” by Pam_Broviak is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

What will I do with Love, today?

What will I do with my love?

Will I open my hands?

Will I walk in The Way?

Will I watch what I say?

Will I trust and obey?

Oh, what will I do;

what now will I do,

what will I do with Love?

*

What will I feel with Love, today?

What will I feel with my love?

Will I hurt with a friend?

Will I forgive and mend,

all the fences that others might tend?

Will I suffer the cross?

Will I risk feeling loss?

Will I laugh hard and long?

Will I sing a new song?

Will I to my fears die?

And without asking why,

will I quickly employ

the strong will of true joy?

Oh, what will I feel with my Love, today?

Yes, what will I feel with Love?

*

What will I be for Love, today?

Oh, what will I be for God’s Love?

Will I truly embrace,

every person and place,

as the Kingdom on Earth, as Above?

Will I let my beliefs,

take a humble back-seat,

to the needs of the world in this Time?

Will I know The Sublime?

Seek until I, Truth, find?

Will I make the world’s treasures as naught?

Will I with peace, leave every self- thought?

Will I brave the true lessons Christ taught?

Will I be, and not strive?

Will I be freely alive?

Oh, let me be only true Love today.

Oh, let me be all and all Love.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Golden Harvest

Sunset on the Lake

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Golden Harvest

By Jane Tawel

July 8, 2022

*

Golden harvest has come due.

Evening sun commands the view.

Now the red-maned goddess flies,

‘cross the deepening gloaming skies.

*

Earth’s horizon sings Time’s song:

“Day is short, and night is long.”

Bast, the Lion Goddess comes.

Birds are stilled and people, mum.

*

Oh, the glory of the Sun,

as the day has come and gone.

And before the Night entombs,

the world’s on fire with Sunset’s bloom.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Dead Angels

Angel by Capt Piper

Dead Angels

By Jane Tawel

June 29, 2022

*

“Your angels are dying,” She said.

*

And so, we found our excuses

to offer to the God,

we had created —  all red, white and blue,

in our own image.

But if we had read it correctly,

we would have known;

there is only One God,

and He is the one who accepts,

no excuses.

*

“Your angels are dying,” She said.

*

The problem is, angels need a lot of care.

And we were once unwilling,

we are now, unwilling;

the nation was unwilling;

the churches were unwilling;

and so, the Spirit of the Age,

began to shrivel and clutch,

in very wealthy widow’s weeds.

*

I don’t know how it is in other places,

but here I know we worship money;

we worship power;

we worship who we think we are.

And we put little God stickers on the outside of it all,

reducing a Savior’s price,

so we can get more buyers.

We pray prayers of helplessness,

to make us feel safer,

to get us off the hook of actually doing anything,

to make sure Jesus takes the fall. Again.

And while outside, our Easter finery is shiny,

like newly minted thirty pieces of silver,

inside, we are rotting like hidden corpses,

hiding from ourselves,

hiding from The Source.

*

“Your angels are dying,” She said.

*

A Human-being once called us ‘white-washed tombs’.

and while we focus on unfulfilled wombs,

we don’t mind killing, no not at all,

while America’s better angels go AWOL

As long as our left hand is in the till,

our right hand ignores the Pearls — for swill.

And so, the Angels of America writhe.

And while we think we can buy God with our tithe,

we take God’s name in vain.

Our worship is profane,

because we keep leaving out Love,

and the freedom to choose

from the Eternal Equation of

God + me =Living Christ.

Instead, we have made God in our own image,

and not in the image of Them,

and we have left Christ on the cross,

so we can go shopping and buy cheaper gas.

Because who needs angels,

when we have nuclear weapons and assault rifles?

Who needs angels,

when we can blame our inner demons,

on some one who is not like us?

*

“Your angels are dying,” She said.

*

Now let us bow our heads,

in the prayer of Our Holy Flag,

and place our hope in a worship of past successes,

and the catechism of power-full-ness,

and the holy rites of more-ness-ness,

and the “our way or the highway”

of laws without consequences

for anyone but Lazarus at the gate.

And fingers crossed,

that we can keep believing that our own cross,

is bearing the pangs of the Dow Jones.

And hopefully, angels and demons are not real,

and the Kingdom of some old documents

can take the place of Heaven on Earth.

*

© Jane Tawel, June 2022

**Written with fear and trembling and much gratitude for the works of Walter Wink.

And What Will I Be When I’m Gone?

“…Time…” by ĐāżŦ {mostly absent} is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

*

And What Will I Be When I’m Gone?

By Jane Tawel, June 26, 2022

*

And what will it be, when I am gone?

When All is gone, when all of “I” is gone?

No and Yes,

Oh, what will I be when I am gone?

*

And what will I see, when I am gone?

In fact, will I see at all?

Or will there be a different sense,

a sense beyond all sight?

*

Oh, what will I hear, when I am gone?

Will I still listen to the day’s news?

Will I still hear the birds? Will I listen to you?

Or will my heart be tuned to The Song,

The Song of The Stars,

The Song of The Sun,

The Song of Eternity’s Hymn?

*

Oh, what will I feel when I am gone?

Will my heart still beat in my chest?

Will my feelings of fear dissipate like the dew?

Will my feelings of love remain?

*

Oh, now is the time to feel and feel more,

and to rage and to hold lovers close.

Oh, now is the time to feel and feel more,

and to shun fear for power in Love.

Oh, Now is My Time,

and I will it to be,

what Creator and human can feel, hear and see,

when We work hand in Universe — 

Universal Design.

And I will resign myself to being strong,

and to see time is short but Eternity’s long.

Oh, I will not tear down, but I will build up,

and I’ll fight all the darkness within and without,

with a whimper, a whisper, a cry and a shout!

And I will not see this Time that I’ve been given,

as anything but my one chance at True Living.

I will sing all the Love songs.

I’ll fight darkness til’ Dawn.

And I’ll seek Light’s True Love,

til’ I’m gone.

© Jane Tawel, 2022

He Bought Every Thing

“A Pile of Money” by veken is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

*

He Bought Every Thing

By Jane Tawel

June 12, 2022

*

He bought up every thing in the whole, whole wide world.

He bought all the pleasures, the birds and the bees.

And he plotted and planned how to buy even more,

as he gassed the whole planet and chopped down all the trees.

*

He bought all the finish lines, so he won all the races.

He bought so many mansions, he couldn’t remember all the places.

He bought a new spouse and he bought a new face,

and when he owned the whole planet, he bought outer space.

*

This man for an instant in time was quite famous.

This rich, famous man owned the world — the whole cosmos!

Who is he, you ask? Who is this great mystery?

No one knows any more, he is buried in history.

*

The richest and ruling-est here on this earth,

think that profit and power reveal one’s true worth.

But even by owning every thing one can buy,

no one can buy out of the fact we all die.

*

The poor man bought every thing, below and above,

But in the end, what he never owned — was what lasts –

only Love.

*

“For what is the lasting profit, if we gain the whole world, but in the process lose our souls.” (Jesus of Nazareth, dirt poor but definitely remembered by history)

© Jane Tawel, June 12, 2022