Long Night Moon

Blooming night,
sailing the height
while earth is still,
comfort the heavy heart.

Cold the night,
hardscrabble the ground, despite
all efforts to till
our soil to its best;
perhaps a forgotten art.

Clear, the sight,
on this, the longest night;
watching, be eased, if chill,
awaiting warmth, as test
and testament to sum and part.

O, Maternal Night
and all stars in flight,
watch over valley and hill,
call Dawn to make blessed,
and release all seeds to new start.

Your cool gaze
            will have prepared earth
            for renewal and rebirth;
may it be to a new and more wondrous phase.

© 2013 Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Falling Silence

Snow,
falling on earth,
falling on snow;
snow, the falling silence,
covering frozen buds
brought forth last Spring,
buds intended to form new thought,
that might grow and be taught,
rather than swiftly and blindly caught
to be cut down, to be lain
in frost-bound graves.

Snow,
blanketing earth,
carpeting earth,
a covering, a silent prayer
for the return of Spring,
whose sun-warmth will melt frost,
warm and awaken cold roots,
encourage and tend new shoots
beyond the reach of cold brutes,
to raise new buds to bloom,
to bring blessing, peace and new fruits.

© 2013 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

rest in peace, beloved children

-the world is indeed a better place because you were here

Flower

From ice,
wind blows,
swirls clouds,
forms snow,
then rain,
to crack
hard ground.

Sky smiles,
shoots rise,
bud grows;
sun-kissed
flow'ring
shows truth:
whole world.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This poem revealed itself to me as I read Chapter 59 of Dōgen's Shōbōgenzō

Futility

Winter: low,
cold,
in arms,
breathless,
yet possible.

Winter lies low:
close, cold
within the arms
of breathlessness
and possibility.

Winter night lies low,
closed and cold,
holding, within desperate arms
of drawn silence, any breath
that could be misconstrued as song.

Winter night lies low, hushed,
closed off in bitter cold,
holding possibility at bay,
for as long as any breath can be held
away from inevitable amplification
into the possibility of Spring sun and of song.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen