Where two worlds touch

The deer slips through the trees
whose branches are now no more
than bare combs pulling at a thick
tangle of November clouds.
The deer is the same gray-brown
of the brush of dead leaves thrown
on the ground by the careless hand
of the wind. The deer runs out into
the winding road that cuts through
the circular divisions of houses, moves
with the same determined agility
as when alert to the sound of a possible
predator. It bounds at the sound
of cars, and finds that, this time, the leap
it makes is an endless one. There is
no sense of gravity, of real grounding,
that sureness of impact, of contact
with the earth after a flight through
the intangibility of air.
There is just the spinning leap, the
twist of limbs, the revolving-door
of a dance that turns the body of
the deer skyward when it finally
comes to rest on the side of the road.
There is blood, soon asphalt-colored,
and the turn of black and silver
wheels as one world moves, insists
to the body of the deer pinned to the
tarmac that it must get up and go.
You're in the road. Get out of our way.
I look at the deer, the gash in its knee,
the torn wall of its abdomen, the fur
there so white, like paint on townhouses,
but softer. I want to touch it but instead
touch my hands to my chest and sigh.
I am standing at the place of death.
I am searching for some border--
wishing it were clear, wishing (for sure)
that I could demarcate this place
with dust, with yellow chalk, with an
orange plastic cone, or the branch of a
tree begging for a pause in the people
in the cars: a pause for the quiet touch
of palms pressed together in prayer.
~~~~~
Today, on my afternoon walk to the library, I saw a dead deer lying on the side of the road. On my way home, I saw another deer, not far from the first, also dead, newly killed, I am certain, because it had not been there a few hours earlier when I walked on this particular stretch of road. The sight of these two creatures, large enough to be me and perhaps heavier, made me stop to look at the cars going by. I noticed how fast the cars flow. The cars that killed these two animals must have been going quite fast. I could see that this place is frightening, disturbing: the way the road is that demands speed (wide, with four lanes in either direction) and the way that people drive on the road that beckons and calls out to death (in what looks like frantic anticipation, a frenzy of blinkers and break lights). Oh, Deer, lingering in the trees, don't go there. Don't go there. Don't go to the road. Stay in the trees. Stay in the safe places, even if few, even if hemmed in, even if filled with the roar of the road.

"Kiss The Earth," by Thich Nhat Hanh

Walk and touch peace every moment.
Walk and touch happiness every moment.
Each step brings a fresh breeze.
Each step makes a flower bloom.
Kiss the Earth with your feet.
Bring the Earth your love and happiness.
The Earth will be safe
when we feel safe in ourselves.
~~~~~
I had a wonderful birthday! My friends sent me wonderful messages all day. My family had a special surprise and treat for me. My favorite foods and the kind of cake that brings me to my knees (i.e. chocolate cake). I talked with my father and received birthday wishes all the way from Bamenda. My father's voice--rich, warm, and Cameroonian--filled me with calm & security. I can say that it was a day of unguarded exuberance and joy on my part. I found this poem by Thich Nhat Hanh, and it captures how I feel right now. I feel: At peace. Happy. Fresh as a rain-swept autumn breeze. Sweet as a flower in bloom. And when I take my walks these days, my feet do kiss the Earth. All is well. Each step, my feet just kissing the Earth.
~~~~~
Read more poems by Thich Nhat Hanh at Poet Seers.

Happy Birthday to Bamenda Babe! :-)

Me, at my aunt's, eating Achu with Nkandah.
Cameroon, August 2009.

A quiet turning at 31

My Dearest Friends:
I want to share with you this joyful time. This week marks my 31st birthday! To celebrate it, I have selected for you my favorite passage from Rainer Maria Rilke's "Letters to a Young Poet." Here's to the past year! A year in which I was truly blessed, in which every single one of my dreams came true, especially my big dream of going back to Cameroon. With God's grace, here's to one more year of living a life filled with the quiet things I cherish and the gentle people I honor. Thank you for being a part of my life.
With warmth & joy,
Bamenda Babe.
~~~~~
If you trust in Nature, in what is simple in Nature, in the small Things that hardly anyone sees and that can so suddenly become huge, immeasurable; if you have this love for what is humble and try very simply, as someone who serves, to win the confidence of what seems poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more reconciling, not in your conscious mind perhaps, which stays behind, astonished, but in your innermost awareness, awakeness, and knowledge. You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
~~~~~
-From Chapter 4, pages 33-35, of "Letters to a Young Poet," by Rainer Maria Rilke

Haiku by Kobayashi Issa

Napped half the day;
no one
punished me!

"Dear Reader," by James Tate

Dear Reader

I am trying to pry open your casket
with this burning snowflake.

I'll give up my sleep for you.
This freezing sleet keeps coming down
and I can barely see.

If this trick works we can rub our hands
together, maybe

start a little fire
with our idenification papers.
I don't know but I keep working, working

half hating you,
half eaten by the moon.

Taken from this sweet-deal page listing poems about poets and their craft.

Happy Halloween!

Today, for some inexplicable reason, was the best Halloween I have ever had. Maybe it was the weather. A drizzle which drew me outdoors so I could feel some moisture on my skin. Maybe it was my walk, a brisk one, and a stop over by the train tracks which revealed a host of colorful trees looking warmly over the cold, black steel of the tracks. Maybe it was my laundry finally getting done after weeks of piling up, and my scalp getting a good wash, and my hair getting twisted into good, clean braids. Maybe it was the phone call to my Mom, and the way she always makes me feel smarter, prettier, and wiser than I can honestly take credit for. Maybe it was the chocolate she sent me, and the little lighted ceramic pumpkins she sent for her grandchildren, which made us smile in the dark. Maybe it was the ribs and chicken my brother barbecued, standing outside in the rain with his red grill that sits on stilt-like legs. He rubbed the meats with delightful Spanish and African herbs from the Whole Foods Market. He served it all up with baked sweet potatoes. Yes, maybe it was the sweet potatoes that made me happy--orange, buttery sweet yams, hinting at Thanksgiving. Ah...maybe it is my heart that made this day happy. The way my heart is so thankful tonight. So tranquil and so thankful.

Chasing a purple sunset at 6 months old

Today, my little nephew turned 6 months. Hard to believe that he was born not so long ago, that he fit his body into the open palms of his father's hands. He was born early and tiny and soon after his birth he stopped breathing and could have died. "He was turning blue!" his father says, but Daddy came to the rescue and called a nurse and the little guy was soon breathing again. He is now big and strong. He also is now firmly my own. We eat and sing and talk and stroll together. We take naps together. I am his nanny and I watch him as if God himself were here supervising my duties. I make mistakes, sometimes. Like the day I put him in his chair and he wiggled his way out of it and fell on his bottom and rolled and hit his head. Lucky for both of us, his chair sits very close to the ground, so the fall was a minor one. But most days are uneventful and predictable. We start with his feeding, diaper changing, napping, and move on to the great outdoors, where I show him leaves and trees and squirrels. He chatters as we move along. The day continues in a repetition of these activities. We often take an afternoon walk and then an evening walk. Yesterday, on our evening stroll, him in his stroller, me pushing him with a smile on my face, we came across the most brilliant sunset I have ever seen. The sun was a ball of orange fire in the sky. The clouds made way for it, and we could see the sun clearly. It lit up the day-after-rain sky and made it purple. I had my camera with me, and I whipped it out. I sped the stroller forward, screeching around bends in the roads of our residential area. I found a good spot and took a photo, the baby keeping his eyes glued to the sun. Tall houses obscured our view and so did branches of trees--my photos could not do justice to the amazing color of sun and sky. But we were happy for the excitement, happy for the moment. So unexpected. A sweet surprise at the end of our day.

"Garb of Beauty," by Anhilaire

I am fascinated by fall, not only
by nature's rare spectacle of beauty
but that the trees dress up
in a resplendent garb of beauty,
then undress, in preparation
for the showers of snow, until they
can afford the garbs of spring again.
While we pile up layers and layers of clothes
in preparation for winter, the trees take off theirs.
Glory be to God!

~~~~~
Praise God for the gift of Poetry! Special thanks to A.N.H. for adding a new level to my poem "Red is the color of autumn in Maryland." I like collective poems. They bring a richness to images and insights that one person cannot achieve alone. I think I want to do this more often. Anyone interested in making a collective poem? Please let me know. You can suggest a topic/theme or start the poem, and I'll pick up where you leave off. Or I can start. Post a comment here, if you'd like to participate. I'm waiting and already thinking up some ideas. :-)

Red is the color of autumn in Maryland

The trees in Maryland are lovely. They are lovely Ladies dressed in Red. And thanks to them, Maryland is a Lady in Red. I want this color for myself. I want to be bold. I want to be like the trees, knowing precisely when and how to change my colors, how to transform myself, how to change my clothes, how to dress properly for every occasion that life brings. So here I am. In America. In Maryland. Missing Cameroon, longing for it, but knowing it will be so very long before I return there. Here I am and I must love this place in which I find myself. Love it deeply and live in it. And the trees are here to help me. Their color is here to cheer me. I drink deeply of their hues. The liquid blood-reds. The fiery oranges. The soft, shimmery yellows. Leaves flutter in the wind and glitter like sequins, and high up in the branches of trees, the dress of autumn starts to fall. Here are the leaves on the ground. Spread everywhere like crisp pools of water after the rain. Here are millions of leaves. Still red. Still gold. Still alive. And...here I am. Picking up the leaves. Placing them on my coat. Clasping them in my hands. Clutching them to my chest. Wearing this beautiful gown that nature is giving me.