Poems for Healing

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Rilke’s Bowl of Roses


Do we know anything that’s quite like this?

And then, like this: that such a feeling comes

from flower petals touching flower petals?

And this: that one should open like an eyelid,

while underneath lie only further eyelids

shuttered tight, as if through ten-fold sleep

they had to tamp in place some inner vision.

And this above all else: that through these petals,

the light must pass. That from a thousand skies,

they slowly filter out that drop of darkness

in whose fiery glow the tangled bunch

of stamens stirs, and rises up erect.


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Something in this poem stirs a sense of wildness that I love!

Surely, you too have longed for this —
to pour yourself out
on the rising circles of the air
to ride, unthinking,
on the flesh of emptiness.


Can you claim, in your civilized life,
that you have never leaned toward
the headlong dive, the snap of bones,
the chance to be so terrible,
so free from evil, beyond choice?


The air that they are riding
is the same breath as your own.
How could you not remember?
That same swift stillness binds
your cells in balance, rushes
through the pulsing circles of your blood.


Each breath proclaims it —
the flash of feathers, the chance to rest
on such a muscled quietness,
to be in that fierce presence,
wholly wind, wholly wild.


 – Lynn Ungar aad1f87da3b7c42261ffbd17c7136b29
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Gamble everything for love,
if you’re a true human being.
If not, leave this gathering.
Half-heartedness doesn’t reach into majesty.
You set out to find God,
but then you keep stopping for long periods
at meanspirited roadhouses.
Don’t wait any longer.
Dive in the ocean,
leave and let the sea be you.
Silent, absent,
walking an empty road,
all praise.
— Rumi


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from the Radiance Sutras as translated by Lorin Roche:


There is a place in the heart where everything meets.
Go there if you want to find me.
Mind, senses, soul, eternity, all are there.
Are you there?

Enter the bowl of vastness that is the heart.
Give yourself to it with total abandon,
listen to the song that is always resonating there.

Quiet ecstasy is there —
and a steady, regal sense of resting in a perfect spot.

Once you know the way
the nature of attention will call you to return,
again and again, and be saturated with knowing,
“I belong here, I am at home here.”

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La Luna Como Medicina


The Moon

by Jaime Sabines

You can take the moon in spoonfuls
or in tablets once every two hours.
It works as a hypnotic and a sedative
and also provides relief
for those who have an overdose of philosophy.
A piece of moon in your pocket
is a better charm than a rabbit’s paw:
it helps to find someone to love,
to be rich without anybody knowing
and keeps doctors and hospitals away.
You can give it as a dessert to children
when they can’t get to sleep,
and a few drops of moon in the eyes of the old
help to die well.
Put a tender moon leaf
under your pillow
and you will see what you would like to see
and always carry a little bottle of moon air
for when you feel you’re suffocating
and give the moon’s key
to prisoners, and the disenchanted.
For those sentenced to death
and those condemned to life
there is no better tonic than the moon
in precisely measured doses.

La luna se puede tomar a cucharadas
o como una cápsula cada dos horas.
Es buena como hipnótico y sedante
y también alivia
a los que se han intoxicado de filosofía.
Un pedazo de luna en el bolsillo
es mejor amuleto que la pata de conejo:
sirve para encontrar a quien se ama,
para ser rico sin que lo sepa nadie
y para alejar a los médicos y las clínicas.
Se puede dar de postre a los niños
cuando no se han dormido,
y unas gotas de luna en los ojos de los ancianos
ayudan a bien morir.

Pon una hoja tierna de la luna
debajo de tu almohada
y mirarás lo que quieras ver.
Lleva siempre un frasquito del aire de la luna
para cuando te ahogues,
y dale la llave de la luna
a los presos y a los desencantados.
Para los condenados a muerte
y para los condenados a vida
no hay mejor estimulante que la luna
en dosis precisas y controladas.

Lee todo en: La luna – Poemas de Jaime Sabines http://www.poemas-del-alma.com/la-luna.htm#ixzz3sdOockjA


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