Heaven is here

Posted November 8, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

I look deep into Creation to
receive, if only for a moment,
if only for a radiant moment,
in utter reverence and grace,
the Gift of understanding that
Heaven is here.

To see that nothing separates
this world from perfect Bliss,
to see that in this Sublime instant
I am awake to the defining Truth
is enough. It is enough to
apprehend Eternity.

In the eyes of every animal,
in the swirling clouds and
in the warmth of the sun;
in my reaching hunger and
my flawless satisfaction,
God calls me.

In comfortable friendships,
and redemptive passions,
in quiet moments near the
wide reaching sea, as my
Soul is prepared for Love,
God touches me.

I look into the open Wonder.
I look beyond the shifting veil,
across the rushing River, to
where I see my Loved One
always reaching out…
reaching out for me.


Posted November 4, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

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In uneasy silence

Posted November 3, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

I saw the withered body of a small thing
trapped under the boards of a fence.
Half on one side and half on the other.
Its eyes hollow, as if still shrieking
the fear of being trapped to death,
yet still wide in anticipation of escape.

I saw the face of a ghost in the mirror
as I washed the sleep from my eyes.
I thought it was laughing at me, and
I felt the sting of embarrassment
that I had been caught naked, and
so old as to be vulnerable and ugly.

I saw the lights go out all over the city,
as the night made its presence known.
Windows opened to let in the air, and
in the tentative light of candles,
I could hear hushed voices escaping
from dark rooms into the streets.

I saw a shadow approach when roused
by a desolate howl in the early hours.
It stood in uneasy silence and waited
while the sound faded away. A fog
descended to obscure its echo in the
gloom.  Then I woke, wet with shame.

Dangerous creatures

Posted November 1, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson
There are cold things in the darkness that
stand silent witness to our loneliness and
pain. They’re not malicious, as they huddle
in closets and in corners. They are merely
curious, because we are the only animals
that weep, when we are weak or unloved.
There are things in life that sap our souls,
Hard things that follow or lead, and weigh
us down with their doubts and demands.
They’re closer than your friends and more
demanding than lovers. You may want to
escape them, but they are a part of you.
There are dangerous creatures all around.
They occupy our homes and our thoughts.
The forest can be a dark domain, but you
can make friends with the wild things that
dwell there. And if you gets lost, you can
follow their tracks to that one quiet place.

Magic language

Posted October 31, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson
Poetry is a magic language.
As long as we have lived together,
it has conveyed the mystical wonder,
the sacred reverence,
the subtle wisdom,
and the burning passions of humanity.
The first suitor spoke to his lover in rhyme;
the shaman’s drumming chant summoned
the animal spirits to the hunt;
the temple priests revealed
the will of the gods in verse; and the
sorcerers opened doors to enchanted
realms with arcane incantations.

Still there

Posted October 29, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry

by Chris Ernest Nelson

It’s all still there, somewhere–
all the bits and pieces of a lifetime,
that seem so jumbled and uneven;
all the moments that once mattered
that are now faded and carried
away by ambivalent time.

It’s all still there, hidden in places,
in songs, in the smell of the wind,
and in the sun that remembers every
summer of our youth. While we were
so content we forgot to consider its
persistent importance.

It’s all still there, waiting for a face
in the crowd, a voice on the phone,
or a dream that wakes you in the
early hours, before the curtain of
distractions falls upon feelings that
stay awake while the day sleeps.

It’s all still there, somewhere–
all the laughter of understanding,
all the confidence of knowing that
friendship is the most important
thing a life can make. And it’s still
there though you are gone.

Posted October 17, 2019 by CHRIS ERNEST NELSON
Categories: Poetry