A gift: Twelve Words for Christmas

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Love knows no season, no gender, no race, no form, or countenance. It is a universal feeling that permeates the soul transcending time and place. It is the one word no one can truly live without.

Humanity is the essence of the Christmas spirit expressed in kindness, goodwill and benevolence, no matter what religion practiced or language spoken, it transcends the evil in life.

Perseverance guides us all in our chosen path, though fraught with difficulties, it gives the traveler a steady persistence in a course of action and purpose in spite of obstacles and discouragement.

Respect is often forgotten in relations, not only in esteem for the worth of others, but also as a manifestation of personal quality and ability; respect others as you would wish others to respect you.

Character is the building blocks of a person forming the aggregate of traits that define the nature of an individual, it is a compilation of all the good things and stalwartness of who you are.

Peace resurrects the passion for living among persons existing as a state of mutual harmony, its satisfaction allows the security of being and the joy of all things good in this world.

Fraternity does not relate to a group of men but rather the brotherhood and sisterhood shared by all human beings without regard to station in life or purpose, it is the quality that binds us all to one another.

Family is why we are here whether dwelling together or separated by generations, it is what identifies each one of us in the vast sea of existence calling to us across miles and ages to be a part of something greater.

Spirituality has value, not necessarily for religion, but for the contentment found in our acceptance of the unseen that is felt, rather than seen, in the universality of all creation.

Bravery is in all of us giving us the strength of conviction with courage to face the unknown, the mettle to place ourselves between on rushing events or things and the weak and helpless, it is the conduct that some call heroism but in truth is being human.

Honesty will help you find freedom from deceit dealing you fairness through sincerity and truthfulness, qualities that cause trust in a person and of others whose paths we cross.

Happiness is the biggest gift of all and is the culmination of everything, a magical word providing good fortune, pleasure, contentment and joy, for without it we have not succeeded in being what we were meant to be.

Be happy, be grateful, and allow yourself to love and be loved. Merry Christmas.

©2012, Donald Harbour

What makes you think you are right?

I dreamed of a night with stars above,
millions of other dreamers about me,
shod with life’s tired and worn shoes,
toeing the edge of a decaying precipice,
the next step a door between worlds,
darkness, light – damnation, salvation,
is there a choice, is destiny mapped,
when do we leave this path, to face
the calamity of our ultimate fate,
when that time comes, as it will,
how are we scribed in the book of life,
some say it is not for us to know,
still I ask, can one accept only chance,
the wrong place at the wrong time,
when is the dark angel ever right,
life snuffed by the world’s insanity,
religious fervor screaming “God is great,”
there, now you have the arbiter,
it is emblazoned on every particle,
“Bless me Father for I have sinned,”
the wafer is stale, the wine; vinegar,
the priest has dirty finger nails,
rivers of blood ooze from the Bible,
from the Koran, from every word,
from every holy book ever written,
from the lifeless lips of children,
from the souls of mothers, fathers,
from the heart of self-righteous nations,
from the bowels of despots and bigots,
from the pious pitiless, and pompous,
the void leads to a bottomless pit,
from which there is no salvation, no light.
dogma’s beast has opened its maw to eat,
all are consumed by their beliefs,
silenced, their psychopathic shrill  becomes,
a mountain of cast off, tired worn shoes.

@2012, Donald Harbour

Kingdom come

People are a disingenuous species,
Stealers, cheaters, killers, devourers.
Religious psychopaths imagining a God.
Teaching false humanity, love thy neighbor,
Unless the neighbor believes not as you, then,
destroy him in the creators name.
The hypocrisy of religion is salvation,
the cosmos cares not about beliefs,
the Creator cares only about life,
All life, even the hypocrites of life.
There is no judgement day, there is now,
there are the fish in the sea,
the birds singing in the trees,
the babble of cascading brooks,
azure blue skies with white clouds,
there is you, there is me, there is
only time flushing detritus of delusion’s delirium.
The excuses for our species,
the greed, government, uselessness,
organic perversion of universal life.
We will be judged not by our accomplishments.
We will be judged on our stewardship,
and the earth is taking names.

©2012, Donald Harbour

Embracing nothing

did you ever know desolation
knowing that there is nothing
but a mind trapped in a loop
the scene playing over and over
no way to turn off its totality
a feeling of vast aching emptiness
a wilderness scream no one hears
no one cares no one ever will

the streets are  full of catatonic people
moving objects in cloistered shells
avoiding each others eye contact
no smile no hint of human recognition
they are a wasteland of flesh and bone
bodies clothed in a death shroud
plaintive expressions of indifference
no one cares no one ever will

the thought occurs you are alone
you are the only thinking human left
you feel the species quickened demise
fear has replaced rational reason
in a moment breath is gone collapsing
there is a panic of emotional suffocation
you now know the burden of loneliness
no one cares no one ever will

©2012, Donald Harbour

No beginning, no ending

There is no beginning, there is no ending, there is only existance.

that which is unknown
that which cannot be known
gathered up the ends of eternity
binding the path of spirituality
with the undulations of time
capturing its changing movement
gathered it all together
interweaving with serenity
into the endless knot of infinity
the knot had no beginning
nor did it have an ending
there laid it upon the divine
that which is infinite wisdom
became the matter of creation
in the emptiness of existence
began the endless cycle
suffering birth death re-birth
inseparable from its ritual of being
that became compassion
giving light and meaning to the void

© 2011, Donald Harbour

When will you remember our Mother

The bubble did not have a thick surface
its quality carried a rippling sheen,
Neither was it perfectly round,
the weight of it was so slight, yet
it distorted the space it occupied.
She laid upon it, laid across its
undulations, caressed it with her body,
hands, feet, lips, thighs, grasped it
with her arms, pressed her taut belly
into it’s surface. She loved the bubble,
it was her creation, her right by birth,
it existed as the beginning of eternity.
She possessed its contents and form with in her.
It was all she was meant to be, there was no
before or after, or distance, nor death,
there was only change as a constant.
The cusp of creation was her temporal parent,
a partner moving her through time.
It always sang her song, hummed her to sleep.
Gaea existed for it and it existed for her,
She was the Mother of all creatures, the Goddess
of life, all that was or ever would be.
In a single drop of her breast milk
she birthed the stars giving light to the void.
Her breath ignited their solar furnaces,
the brush of her hand set the planets in motion.
Gaea, the everlasting foundation of creation,
before its cold stillness and its raging inferno,
she moved into the purgatory of non-existence,
and waited for the day she would be remembered.

© 2011, Donald Harbour

This I know

My wife Irma.

I do not know my worth,
That is for others to value.
I do know what is in my heart,
And what is in your smile.
If the world came to an end,
If today was our last,
This moment would be as always,
To take this into eternity,
All that I have to give.
Is not worldly bonds,
Is not a promise or gift,
It is an everlasting possession,
All there has ever been,
That I have ever needed,
That has nourished me,
Manna, which has succored me,
In sorrow, pain, and defeat,
In joy, triumph, and peace,
It is you, my cherished wife,
With my life, I love you.
By my last breathe,
That is enough for me.

© 2021, Donald Harbour

The magical joy of poetry

Writing a poem has no form or fancy.
The words tumble across my mind,
Falling, fluttering as snow flakes
On a barren field of conversation.
I am struck by the pose of a tree,
A jagged sentinel, it watches,
As it has watched the long count years.
Its song in the breeze whispers to me,
Words spoken in raspy coughs and sighs,
Rattled in the tenuous verse of leaves.
I write its words, sonorous wisdom,
These words spoken on the wind.
A poem does not require thought,
It exists in the moment of its creation.
The waters of its spring flow in tendrils,
The lines course across the paper
Pooling in a readers heart and soul,
There the conversation takes life,
Living in the magical joy of poetry.

© 2011, Donald Harbour