Solitude
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Cause for Concern?
Alone and silent,should I be concernedthat paper and pensatisfy me entirely? Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading
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The Middle of Imagination
In the middle of imaginationlies a field where clover growswhere I am free to wander,to lie down and inhalethe green, growing goodnessand know life unbound;my spirit swellswith the utter, unfettered joyof non-commitment. I observethe unconscious desire to breathe–in and out–in and… Continue reading
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The Museum
We visit a museum–an enormous, crammed collectionof paintings, furniture and glassware. There are employees here,but they display the same restfulnessas the items exhibited in the glass cases,as the furniture, unused, guarded by satin ropes. It's as if the entire place–contents… Continue reading
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The Embrace of One
I have a friendwhom I want to be happywith his simple, beautiful self.I want him to sense his completenesseven when he is alone,and to ease into that alonenessand find joy and peacein solitude. There is nothing missingin the essence of… Continue reading
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A Cat Warms My Feet
Under the coversa cat stretches over my feet,warming them on a cold February nightwhile snow flies beyond the patio door beside the bed. A cat warms my feet.A cat warms my feet. I want nothing more. Text and image © 2012… Continue reading
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A Poem
A poem:why five wordswhen three suffice? The lone, stripped pine,silhouetted against the otherwise uninterrupted horizon,carries more of methan a forest of language and imagery. Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading
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My Sacred Space
Welcome! You have just enteredmy sacred space,my sanctuary,my holy of holies. Into my spaceyou bring your own opinions, dreams, fears,doubt, anger, wonder… So in a sense,my sacred space has now becomes yours as well.What happens when our sacred spaces mingle?What… Continue reading
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Advent 17
Late Christmas Eveand, by the light of the tree, I sit in the living room writing.The final CD ends;quiet settles about me like an old wool afghan. So this is actually it–that about which we've endlessly sung–the silent night. I… Continue reading
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My Soul
My soulis a temple in ruins.Where thousands once worshippedonly the common starlings–black against the cracked white marble–pace and peck for seeds. Only a soul in ruinsallows in, without constraint,the sun, rain and wind,the incense of pines,the glow of yellow daffodils,the… Continue reading
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Advent 5
A winter blizzard separates us–you are two miles away,but may as well be in Sitka. My normal snowstorm excitementdrifts over with loneliness. I think I'm craving you,but what I may be cravingis a tranquil, storm-embraced me. Text and image ©… Continue reading