The Persistent One

Posted on December 22, 2014 by Meisaan Chan

Sometimes I come and you’re not there;
maybe you’re out to lunch
or didn’t hear the page – no shame.
It happens.
I’ll be back.

© Meisaan Chan

 

 

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The Carver

Posted on December 22, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
Carve out a little space, O God
and then, when nestled,
carve the walls yet further still
until the shavings curl away
in thick cloud-piles,
until the walls are thin, then holed, then open,
until you carve the nothingness:
and even then, O God, keep carving
as now non-shavings curl away
so intent you are to reach the center
so intent am I to let you reach it
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
 
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The encounter

Posted on December 19, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
The deer stares, frozen
as we breathe one vapored breath
hearts pound, hand reaches
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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Hunger, revisited

Posted on December 18, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
I eat, am not full
and eat more, to emptiness –
wrong stomach, wrong food
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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Apartment complex

Posted on December 17, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
Cry of bird
from across my hallway
all our cages
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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Haiku

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
New tongue on my tongue
thick curtain lifts
giant stars await
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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So much strength

Posted on December 15, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
So much strength
and yet so gentle
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
 
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(Photo credit: Twisted Sifter)
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More important than having control

Posted on December 12, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
More important than having control
is knowing when to relinquish it
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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Take me home

Posted on December 11, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
Take me home
in the dark and frozen cold
when my breath sticks to my lips
and I have nowhere to go;
Someone, come with velvet shroud,
arm around my shoulders,
and guide me to the glowing light
to tender hands, waiting bed, rest
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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Imprints

Posted on December 10, 2014 by Meisaan Chan
 
They say that for infants,
steady, loving gazes, eye-to-eye,
form the basis for intimacy and
trust and emotional stability as adults;
this gaze of open love leaves a forever imprint.
 
And what of the earth?
Does she not, too, gaze upon us
desiring us to gaze deeply back,
she, with the eyes of mountains and sunsets
and humid rows of corn in August
and moss as it hangs heavy on the trees
and lakes, frozen over
and dragonflies flitting?
Those of us who grew up gazing
find ourselves forever imprinted, too –
for no matter how many years have passed
or miles we’ve traveled
we know that exact sound of apples growing
or the wild smell of ocean spray
or the texture of the dark blue hills at sunset;
when we return, something within us releases,
that wide arc again resumes its curve,
then completes the circle.
 
 
© Meisaan Chan
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