The Book of Joy

The Book of JoyThe Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu
meet in the Himalayas
at the Dalai Lama’s home in Dharamsala.

Pondering the meaning of joy.

Two wise man,
spiritual world leaders,
enjoying each other’s company.

Wisdom and love filled pages.

Stories of journeys past.

Many roads leading to happiness.

Did I find joy?
Hard to tell…

I lack the wisdom, patience, and acceptance
to fully embrace joy.

In a world where being in control means power,
giving it up to gain joy seems hard to do.

Though, inspired I am.
Inspired to become more aware
of life around me.
Alert to people and their stories.

Joy seems nothing to be found,
rather created by actions.

a|hirsch

Advertisements

Flower Power 2016

Flower Power 2016ID-100148045

Flower power
meets twenty sixteen.

There she is,
sitting on her bike,
waiting for the
light to change.

Spring breeze,
dancing hair,
Jeans with holes,
vintage blouse.

Friday afternoon,
school is out,
she sings out loud
to tunes her
earbuds reveal.

Carefree,
weekend ahead
packed with
opportunity
and prospect.

Youth is wasted on
the young
and she is
worth the spoil.

May all your lives
be filled with
moments
of sunshine
and ease.

a|hirsch
Image courtesy of dan at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

lonely sock

A sock at the YIMAG0420

Here I am,
visiting the local
YMCA
for workout
and relaxation.

Between repeats
of lifting weights
and relaxation
inside Jacuzzi.

Here it is!
All alone!
A sock without
a foot,
a sock without
its counterpart.

All alone!
Abandoned?
Or perhaps
caught in the act?

You might ask,
what kind of act
can a lonely sock
perform?

Running away from home.

As Dobby was set free,
so the sock itself
found freedom
in liberation.

Did we discover
the century old quest
of missing socks?

Was the dryer
after all
without fault?

Another mystery
to be solved
another day

a|hirsch

picture a|hirsch

fight on

Lost Identity

Every day
a new start.

Starting over,
taking a shower,
cleansing hot water.

Leaving the shower
turning in front of the
mirror,
reality, displayed
in rawest form.

Mastectomy scars,
even few,
the reminders of
pain and loss.

Stolen identity
feelings of incompleteness.

Now
a canvas
filled again, with
images
fragile and colorful.

A hummingbird
feather light in flight
feasting on a
Bird-of-Paradise

Beautifully tattooed
in fine stitches
colorful and fragile
changed, still
beautiful

Proud to fight on.

The reflection
in the mirror
becomes a reminder
of lost identity.

And strong (beautiful)
future.

Brushing teeth,
not yet putting a shirt on,
staying proud.

Going along with daily
routines

Happy to be here.

a|hirsch

 

written for a friend
Image courtesy of scottchan at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

 

 

Memories

Memories http://www.yoolca.webd.pl/szablon.html

Playing Mahjong in the middle of the night.
Laying in bed and winding down by doing useless puzzles.
Here it comes, out of the blue,
a memory from a childhood
decades away.

A lunch eaten at a strange place,
tasting the food in my mouth,
even smelling the smells.

Each detail so vivid like it just happened
right now.
Though forty or more years away.

We are the future, past, and presents
at all time.
And sometimes there is a rift in time
and all becomes one,
for a few moments in time.

a|hirsch

 

Image by Yoolca http://www.yoolca.webd.pl/szablon.html