Crescendo Eyes

When I slow down enough to see, I find that others' "seeing" moves me. At least that is what I found when I spent two weeks in Tokaj, Hungary this summer, surrounded by remarkable musicians from nearly 40 countries for the Crescendo Summer Institute.

The eyes of some of the people I met inspired the following lines that I'm calling "poetic eye sketches" - brief impressions that provide tiny glimpses into who these people are as seen through who I am - as eyes meet eyes. I am changed by them and ever so grateful.

Just a few of the eyes that inspired these poetic "sketches"...

One

A steady welcome without pretense

     and humble certainty,

stirred together with freckled joy,

pulses from her eyes.

Two

Waves of peace emanate from the fresh crystalline twinkle,

arching over cheekbones like tendrils toward the object of delight.

Three

In an instant her eyes are alive and dancing,

responding to the warm hello that says,

     “I see you and think you’re worth knowing.”

Four

A tinge of mystery mingles with the thanksgiving she extends as our eyes meet.

Precious stories of other meetings,

     and the guarded treasures of her soul,

     I may never know,

but her brown irises whisper safety.

  

Five

There’s coffee in her eyes –

the sweet aroma and familiar warmth of a morning greeting

     welcoming me into the day.

Six

Tired eyes looking down didn’t know

they missed the blessing I sought to deliver

     not only with my voice.

Seven

Steady gaze of collaborative energy

     to try something new and succeed – together.

Eight

Blank proximity changed to a gift,

     eyes wrapping into mine

          in a quick ribbon curl

               of ubuntu.

Nine

The tops of his cheekbones wink,

     joining his kindly eyes in a gesture of hospitality.

Perhaps the God of whom he speaks loves with eyes like his?

Ten

Scintillating jewels dancing with fiery elation speak

     nearly as much as her arms sing

Eleven

Perceived pride or icy indifference melt away in a side-by-side encounter.

     Darkness reveals we are alike.

Those eyes contained laughter all along for those willing to look.

Twelve

Her eyes caught me in a warm embrace in the candle-glow.

A shared history – and words of life I had forgotten – its impetus.

Thirteen

Gentle vulnerability dons a cloak of radiance as eyes turn heavenward,

     deep trust giving strength to their fragility.

Fourteen

Eyes meet with a choice.

Partial permission to enter –

Testing trust anew.

Fifteen

The laughter in her deep brown eyes invites all those she meets to join the party,

     saying, “You are beautiful and wanted here.”

Sixteen

Eyes that share my fascination with eyes –

Digging below the surface with calm patience.

Fierce and playful, brimming with creative power,

Inviting you to adventures.

A new one and an old one

It has been a long time since I felt any inspiration to write. But spending two weeks surrounded by remarkable musicians/artists at Crescendo Summer Institute and slowing down the pace enough to notice and wonder sparked some new creativity in me. So here's a new poem and an old one, too.

August 7, 2015

They cut the wheat when I wasn’t looking.

Seasons change, as do I,

Dancing with alternating tentative and certain steps toward hopeful green –

Though much must die before it comes.

The golden barrenness is beautiful, too –

A waiting, exposed, having given all to nourish others.

He told us the desert is total openness to the sky, whose liturgy is one of waiting.

And so, like shorn wheat, we wait for the rains of renewal. 

* "He" refers to András Visky, speaking during the International Service at Crescendo Summer Institute, July 26, 2015

July 15, 2011 – Perelle Bay, Guernsey 5:15-6pm – Watching the tide come in

Advancing waves invite retreat

from my rocky perch

Later to command it

Knowing it is they not I

who have come before

and will persist

Creeping slowly onward

but a whisper and a glimmer

signal their coming

Among rocks immovable

the stealthy troops advance

Surrounding and submerging the

slumbering stone sentinels

A gush of excitement to fill a new

valley adds to the low din

Then moving stillness again

Waiting for reinforcements for

the next climb

A breeze of warning before their arrival

tells me I haven't heeded

Soon they will leave me no choice

In smug confidence onward marching

gathering new courage with each 

well-placed step

rejoicing in their imagined lordship

insatiable in their transfixing greed

I shall yield to their transient rule

knowing

- as does my rocky seat - 

that dawn shall peel back their icy cover,

morning sun reverse their victory