Remembering All the Cats I've Loved

The Graves of Cats
The graves of cats are not like
those of dogs or parakeets.
They have been slipped out of

a day or maybe two
after you packed the dark dirt
with the long-handled shovel.

Now as you play with the child
or drink a beer beside the stream
while the swallows skim the wheat,

the cats as though from under the table
stretch and slide past roots
and fallen leaves, and not a blade

of grass disturbed, not a worm,
except at the corner of your eye
there’s a small shift of direction

in the alfalfa, and for a moment
the evening preens and stares
in a way you almost call by name.

–Harry Humes

Wecome Home

Welcome Home

My home is made of peace.

My heart is made of patience.

My soul is made of pondering.

My home is a refuge of kindness that no one can 

disrupt.

I am there whenever I am curious. 

I am there whenever I am creative.

I am there whenever I am attentive.

Yes, you can enter.

As long as you remember:

My heart is made of patience.

My soul is made of pondering.

-Kathryn Harper

A Request

A Request

Amorevita, you have been the sturdy taproot of my life.
You have been the woven net I long to trust in the world.
And now I ask you to scatter me.
I ask you to be the farmer that sows and winnows me across the fields of my life.
Do not forget me now.
Come to me as a river of courage, a rhythmic surf.
Ignite me like the brilliant beam of the lighthouse.

-Kathryn Harper

I Am

 

I Am

The fox cannot help being stealthy.
The rose cannot help being thorny.
The sun cannot help being fiery.
And I cannot help being Kathryn.
Even in my sleep, I dream of creating.
Even in my sadness, I love my life.
I swim in the rivers of my curiosity.
I climb through the mountains of my awe.
I travel for years and years.
And on the other side
is Kathryn, beautiful Kathryn,
her vibrant energy reverberating in the world.

-Kathryn Harper

Poem to Myself

Poem to Myself

No one knows the gray fox that dreams in me.
No one knows that my heart is a curious puzzle

  I carry through the night toward the horizon.

No one knows the wonder I savor.

But I do. I do.

I will wake today and chase my senses.

I will walk today and notice the details.

I will explore until I catch the Mystery.

Gray fox, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

-Kathryn Harper

Encouragement

Encouragement

Let yourself be the earth and the days be weather.

Storms come, but they pass. Do not follow them.

Enjoy the sun. Notice the bees kiss the flowers

while you listen to a crow shout her opinions to the world.

What a gift, to be!!

-Kathryn Harper

Crossroads

Crossroads

My body, now that we will not be traveling together much longer 

I begin to feel a new tenderness toward you, very raw and unfamiliar, 

like what I remember of love when I was young -- 

love that was so often foolish in its objectives 

but never in its choices, its intensities.

Too much demanded in advance, too much that could not be promised --

My soul has been so fearful, so violent: 

forgive its brutality.

As though it were that soul, my hand moves over you cautiously,

not wishing to give offense

but eager, finally, to achieve expression as substance:

it is not the earth I will miss, 

it is you I will miss.

- Louise Glück

What The Doctor Said

What The Doctor Said

He said it doesn't look good
he said it looks bad in fact real bad
he said I counted thirty-two of them on one lung before
I quit counting them
I said I'm glad I wouldn't want to know
about any more being there than that
he said are you a religious man do you kneel down
in forest groves and let yourself ask for help
when you come to a waterfall
mist blowing against your face and arms
do you stop and ask for understanding at those moments
I said not yet but I intend to start today
he said I'm real sorry he said
I wish I had some other kind of news to give you
I said Amen and he said something else
I didn't catch and not knowing what else to do
and not wanting him to have to repeat it
and me to have to fully digest it
I just looked at him
for a minute and he looked back it was then
I jumped up and shook hands with this man who'd just given me
something no one else on earth had ever given me
I may have even thanked him habit being so strong

--Raymond Carver

Awaiting Test Results

Awaiting Test Results

My name is Self (or Me-myself And I).
Today I feel like a held breath
waiting in the throat.
Sometimes I am a work of art.
Sometimes I am a tangled mess.
But always I am curious.
I ask the world, “How did I waste so much time?”
And the answer is

a held breath waiting in the throat.

--Kathryn Harper

Sacraments of the Morning

Sacraments of the Morning

Isn’t it enough
to feel a chill as you rise from a warm
bed, stumble to the bath and with
nimble fingers attend to your body’s
needs, button your shirt, to balance
as you put pants on one leg at a time?

Isn’t it enough
to hear the morning news, the coffee
maker gurgling as you eat your
Wheaties with skim milk, to listen in
the comfort and illuminated safety of
your kitchen as rain rattles the roof?

Isn’t it enough
to inhale the earth’s perfume of wet
dirt, worms, roses and jasmine blooms,
to smell even the faint fumes of the
world’s morning commute as you join
with humanity for the day’s business?

Isn’t it enough
to taste the fresh tender day and
savor the strong bitter brew from
your steaming paper chalice as
you await the train under the shelter 

with others huddled like pigeons?

Isn’t it enough
to observe the blur of cinderblock
fortresses adorned with graffiti, the
lonely artifacts of life strewn across
anonymous backyards, to notice the
window cat watching the morning?

-- Kathryn Harper

“Cold Rain, Warm Colours” by Fred Rune Rahm, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 

Tulips

Shell pink petals
Sunlight turns the tips creamy
Pollen beckons within cups
Feasts for the bees

Pandemic Prayer

Pandemic Prayer

We are not all left standing when the war has ended.
It feels like the end times.
For many, it is.
Inhalation is our first act of embodiment.
Exhalation, our last.
One lifetime, millions of breaths
a conversation with all existence.
Where does the spirit go when we die?
Hail Mary, my gentle Momma,
You left; you gave up your breath
before the virus could steal it.
You waged a long campaign to stave off
cancer, old age, and death.
Emancipating your breath
you added the gift of your spirit to all.
Holy Mary, you released your body,
returned to Earth, our suffocated Mother,
in respiratory distress for decades.
Humanity is a virus choking
and drowning our source of life.
When the host dies,
the virus dies too.
Momma, you returned to our Mother
so you could garden with Her,
to try to heal us all.

–Kathryn Harper

On this day six years ago my mother, Mary Catherine Nicklas Petro, died. She was 86 and had two types of cancer. In 2017 she was diagnosed with stage IV melanoma -- her third experience with melanoma. She began Opdivo, an immunotherapy. It was her good fortune that she fell into the 30% for whom the treatment worked. It shrank her tumors to almost nothing. About a year ago, her breast cancer returned. She had a lot of arthritis, mobility issues, and pain. Yet she kept going as long as she could with the Opdivo, because she wanted to contribute to the research on the treatment for the sake of others. The breast cancer returned, though, and she knew she didn’t want aggressive treatment for it. Her body was struggling enough with side effects and ailments.

Mom was getting close to entering hospice. We had imagined more time, a gradual decline, a process where we could see her again and say good-bye. Something happened inside her that day that led to a swift end. She is no longer suffering. I had talked to her three days prior, and I am so glad I did. We lived 3,000 miles apart. I lived in an epicenter of Covid-19, was sheltering-in-place, and am in a vulnerable group. I didn’t want to get it, and I didn’t want to carry it to my siblings or my elderly father. I spent a lot of time saying good-bye to my mother over the years, connecting with her, resolving things between us. I grieved some. Yet nothing prepared me for how that felt. The finality. May we all be peace; may we all be free from suffering. 

Say Good Morning

What do you do 

when you head into the morning 

to pick dandelion leaves for the rabbit, 

and you meet a

pea-sized spot of joy on a plant?

-Kathryn Harper

The Crows Wait Patiently

Two crows on a bare branch,
one grooming the other
as the nigh spring sun sets;
a breeze makes shadows dance

over the empty bowl.

-Kathryn Harper

Dance With Me

                     

Dance With Me

There I stood, waiting for the express
While pondering ways to renew
my flagging spirit, which struggled to climb
life's mounting challenges, when I saw you, serene,
your hands moving in the air, a kind of dance --
the glorious joy on your face making you rich.

Gazing around, I noticed the world's colors were rich.
In each person I sensed the soul's desire to express, 
to enter into the dance.
I felt that I could summon the energy to renew
and make myself serene
like an arbor trellis with those roses that climb.

To reach far, to stretch toward goals that require I climb --
this makes life worthwhile, and I feel rich.
In these moments, my heart beats serene.
I vibrate with life and tremble to express,
to evolve, to embrace impermanence and thus renew
life's eternal dance.

So, which steps will we choose to dance?
Will it be the hustle, the two-step, the fandango climb?
Or maybe a slow waltz, to allow our breathing to renew
while rhythmically moving to the beat, slow and rich.
Perhaps we will lean in to share a kiss, to express
what tantalizes us as we attempt to appear serene.

We might do this under the silver light of the moon, serene
in the movement of the dance
and the people watching -- their murmurs will express
how desire steeps, distills, intensifies, like the climb
of mercury trapped in a glass tube, the red rich
as blood, like the lungs give oxygen to renew.

And after we untwine ourselves, we turn within to renew
the relationship with the One who never leaves, the serene
companion who understands money does not make one rich;
nor does having it guarantee an invitation to the dance
and that life is often one painful, slogging climb
to an illusory summit that cannot contain all we express.

Form and emptiness express all that is, a serene

invitation to renew your energy and dance with life.

Free from need to delve or climb, rich beyond measure.

-Kathryn Harper  

Resurrection

Resurrection

Healing began when her eyes beheld herself,
her heart quickening at the recognition
that she wanted to live again.
Restoring soul to body is a process of reconciliation.

The journey began with a decision to be touched.

There is a vital difference in the quality
of being touched and receiving touch.
Tender as a mother, sensuous as a lover,
transcending into power and wholeness.

When the hour is done, she knows she is a
beloved daughter, a beautiful woman,
having given her entire self,
body and soul, into the hands of Love.

-Kathryn Harper

“Massage” by Jean-Louis GANDON, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Our Life's Prayer

Our Life’s Prayer

Carnal syrup which flows within,
why not make it art?
It has been spilled
enough to fill
the gloomy pit of Tartarus.
Ferry to us the draught of life.
Preserve us from dissolution,
for our gene codes fight dauntlessly,
against this.
Be not used to segregate others,
for humanity is one tribe.
Thou are the mystery, the
sinew, and the richness
that makes our lives worth living. Yes.

-Kathryn Harper 

This poem was written using a style called ekphrasis. The photograph is of a piece by René de Guzman and is titled Blood Color Theory. His artworks allude to current issues such as the HIV/AIDS crisis in the early 1990s. In this piece, de Guzman sandwiched his own blood, mixed with preservatives, between two Plexiglass sheets. The work's impact lies partly in the shock value to convey the message, and the work takes on the formal qualities of a minimalist painting. What I find intriguing are the images reflected. This poem, which echoes The Lord's Prayer, is the result. 

A Glimpse of My Youth

 

A Glimpse of My Youth 

Tangles of Virginia creeper drape over
the pool, a shimmering gasoline puddle
of Japanese beetles.

I am sodden in my second skin bathing suit
sprawled on the ground murmuring secrets
to cicadas,

watching my father wash lettuce
from the garden. 

When I Go Into the Woods

  

When I Go Into the Woods

When I go to the woods
I bring no books along
preferring instead to read
the primary sources:

the opinion columns of pines
persuasive essays by incense cedars
an array of novels from oak trees.
Quaking aspens are poetry of light
and movement.

There is philosophy in fallen logs.
I study the hieroglyphs of former
wildfires to glean memories
of the Before time.

Even dead trees have purpose
as nurseries for animals and plants;
the rhymes arising from them
are kissed by the wind,
then float away.

-Kathryn Harper

Surreal

Surreal 

At the turn of the century
it is a long way down
to the mind's I. A treehouse
chronicles my journey to this
lost continent, which requires
the amber spyglass to navigate.
When I arrive I am barely a
shadow of a man. There is
snow falling on cedars; through
the woods I hear the single hound
wailing for her hometown. After
twenty years at Hull House, she
mourns for that bastard out of
Carolina who left her tender
at the bone. I wander through
trees toward her cries and find
her. My journey ends across the
river, past the canal town. Before
crossing over, I ask her for
directions. "I don't know," she
replies. "I'm a stranger here myself."

-Kathryn Harper

Another Cento poem. The titles:

• Turn of the Century (Kurt Andersen)
• A Long Way Down
• The Mind's I: Fantasies and Reflections on Self and Soul
• Treehouse Chronicles: One Man's Dream of a Life Aloft (S. Peter Lewis)
• The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America
• The Amber Spyglass
• Shadow of a Man
• Snow Falling on Cedars
• Through the Woods (H.E. Bates)
• The Single Hound (May Sarton)
• Bastard Out of Carolina
• Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table
• Canal Town
• Crossing Over (Ruben Martinez)
• I'm a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Away