(Or, “I know all about waiting.”)

When I was six
I saw the very first Star War
It wasn’t called A New Hope then
Yet one was born in me

When I was nine
The Empire struck back
And I came home from that film
Feeling wonderstruck

Then I was twelve
I witnessed the Jedi’s return
He came wielding a green saber
And a compelling maturity

I didn’t want it to end
But then there was nothing
For sixteen long years

When I was twenty eight
The phantom menace loomed
We lined up for hours in costume
And came out wondering why

When I was thirty one
An army of clones attacked
Bringing a flood of sameness
But not much Jar Jar, at least

When I was thirty four
The Sith had their revenge
It was disturbing, not compelling
I was ok if this was the end

And then there was nothing
For ten long years
At least on the big screen

When I was forty four
The Force re-awakened
And I said THIS is Star Wars
I had a new hope once again

When I was forty six
The last Jedi returned again
Earning both love and hate
But mostly love from me

Now I am forty eight
And I saw Skywalker rise
And it was glorious
And it was disappointing

I’ve been a refugee in this galaxy
For most of my life, and now
I’m glad the saga is at its end

What am I giving up for Lent?
I’m giving up on giving up.
That’s right, I’m relentless now.
Go ahead, try to stop me.

Yesterday I took a wrong turn.
Google Maps implored me
to make a u-turn ahead.
I ignored it. I’m still going west.

But I pulled over for this
all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
I’ve been here for six hours,
and I might die but I won’t stop.

Then this restaurant manager
told me I needed to leave, so
I started arguing “all means all!”
Guess what I’m doing right now?

God, I hope and pray that I will
somehow make it to Easter.

what’s new?
new year
new light
(a little bit)
also
a little bit
more wisdom
nah
pretty much
same old me

ain’t nobody gonna love you
like your doggy gonna love you
all big wet tongue
and thumping tail

sloppy tenderness
but he will guard you with his life
(and not only his)
if it should come to that

what did you do to earn
such ridiculous devotion?
nothing at all proportional
a bit of kindness was enough

so i hope that you are grateful
for the undeserved grace
for the unmatched gift
that is puppy love

jerk cat you frost my cupcakes
you so cute
you so sweet
you so purrsome
you…ow!
goddamnit jerk cat
why sink your teeth in my wrist?

jerk cat you rub up against me
you say love me
you say pet me
you say we friends
you…ow!
effing jerk of a jerk cat
you swat me with claws out really?

jerk cat you wake me with a chomp
i’m like JUMP
i’m like wha??
i’m like damn!
i’m like…breakfast i guess?
you’re like nah bro
imma cuddle up to you and purr

jerk cat you suck
you adorable asshole
how am i supposed to know
that’s your attack purr?

while the wild green is here she seizes the ground
 she scrambles up in the air like she owns the sky
  as if the very atmosphere were her possession
as if she'll never stop embracing this wormy soil
 squeezing mother earth in a sweaty verdant hug
  that's just tight enough to say i love you dear one
   never so rough or careless as to cause any harm
and yet the green is thirsty for her mother's tears
 for the fall and flow of nourishment as she grows
as she runs madly over the hills giggling with joy
 as if all this life and warm sunlight will last forever
as if autumn were a tall tale made up by a trickster
 and winter a scary story told to frighten little sprouts

I don’t call you servants –
I call you friends.

Yes, I needed you.
Yes, I need you.

When I came down from the mountain,
exhausted from saying
all the inexhaustible things,
I needed you – I needed my friends.

When I returned from my solitude
by the sea, and in the barren places,
where I abided in interior community,
I ached for the company of friends.

When I completed my fasting,
I craved more than bread and wine.
I hungered for your laughter and embrace,
my dear ones – my friends.

When I was challenged by those
who didn’t understand my words –
or who understood them all too well –
your presence gave me confidence, friends.

When they took me and lashed me,
and blood and tears fell from my flesh,
even though you weren’t there,
I drew strength from the love of my friends.

And now as I hang here stretched and dying,
as my breath grows ever more ragged,
I weep with those few beloveds who stayed,
and I grieve that I must leave you, my friends

A Christian,
a Muslim,
a Buddhist,
and an atheist scientist
walked into a coffee shop.

(The Christian and the scientist
were in favor of the pub,
but the other two were not.)

The four of them huddled
around a low table,
clutching mostly hot drinks
(the Muslim had cold brew)
and discussed

faith and surrender
mindfulness and investigation.
And this was their conclusion:

The faith of the Christian,
the surrender of the Muslim,
the mindfulness of the Buddhist,
the investigation of the scientist:

at their best, these are all
the same movement –
to welcome reality as it is,
with all its gentle miracles,
all its cruelest blades.

“Show me the truth!”
cries the whole-hearted soul,
“for I trust that only in truth
can I be free.”

Yet at their worst,
each of these paths trusts only
in the cold certainty of established belief,
closing the door to true understanding.

Let us make a pact
to always examine ourselves
and one another
to ensure that we are avoiding
that snare.

Then the four of them stood up,
embraced,
walked outside,
and looked up, smiling,
into a clear blue sky.