The Addict Knows

by March 2015


You stand in the open palm
of the one who has no name,
all powerful or all loving,
as the wind gently moves your clothes.

Feeling alone
and never alone,

you look at your open palm
and wonder
what you actually possess.

Only the universe can hold
your longing.
Only the nameless one
can feel your soul.
Only you
can heal these wounds.


There are days when the warm sun
coaxes trees from the earth,
bakes the ground beneath my feet
so the moist brown dirt barely
sticks to my sole. I can feel You
in the fragrant eucalyptus filling me
or the soft cry of mourning
doves that turn my head.

There are days when cold asphalt
sends shudders through my shins
and the exhaust from noisy trucks
is all I feel in the city. The world enters
my eyes and sticks to the inside of my skull
and my heart is too closed
even to weep.


delicate as
the flower
growing out
of sheer rock
feeding on
ocean mist
never knowing
just blooming
wild and yellow
soft as a sigh
a lover’s sigh.


What do we want that is not God?
What do we ache for
that is not the aching of the spirit
for compassion?

The open palm of desire
wants everything.
The addict knows
everything is not enough.

The bucket will always be empty
so long as I think
it must be filled.
I can only carry

God and my longing.