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Retired from 10 years in the Canadian Navy, and 28 years in the Canadian Diplomatic Service, with postings in Beijing, Mexico City, Sri Lanka, Romania, Abu Dhabi, Guyana, Ireland, Trinidad, and, last but not least, India.

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Stained Glass Reflections



Bits of bright cerulean sky
from summers of our youth:
jagged purple hurtful shards
when lies are passed as truth: 
yellow warmth of family,
comfort of friends and home:
dread scarlet of betrayal,
the grey of being alone:
indigo dagger of bereavement:
royal blue square of loss:
patchy greens of wet spring days,
and Autumn’s orange/brown gloss:
the glowing pink of a baby’s love:
dark green of love gone bad:
the amazing orange of growing old:
lucent yellow of all things glad:
together these fragments colour our lives,
and slowly form a picture
of who we were, and what we are
in kaleidoscopic mixture.

We journey through our lives with
this colourful maelstrom flashing,
as we stumble and triumph day to day,
crying, singing, crawling, crashing.

We cannot see the picture:
just too busy keeping on,
until one older morning
we awake-confusion gone.

Standing back, a little shaky now,
with Autumn sun shining through, 
we see splendid magnificence 
in the lives of me and you.

2 comments:

dreamshaper said...

Again, you've captured a time we all remember!
Julia

The Ancient Hippie said...

Thanks, Julia. I wrote this after a road trip to Ottawa in 2013. It was a time of change, and I wanted to reflect that in the poem.
Cheers.

The Ancient Hippie

The Ancient Hippie
Natraj dances with us all.

Welcome, and Namaste

Greetings fellow travellers,

For you American friends visiting, you will notice that this old Canadian uses Canadian English in this blog: kindly bear with me. As I blog primarily on subjects that are vitally interesting to me, I appreciate all feedback.

As I tend to be a bit of a language usage freak, I will, as required, edit obscenity and rude comments. That said, I welcome your opinions and discussion.

May your Dharma be clear

Peace

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended:
That you have but slumb'red here,
While these visions did appear."


Puck’s epilogue to A Midsummer Night’s Dream