Love is not a ebbs of emotions
that flow from the human heart.
Nor is it the reciprocation of
understanding promised by lovers.

Love is a dervish twirling
at the center of every cell.
Singing in the heart of Heaven’s soul.
With no notion of itself or another,
just Love and the silent music
of this ecstasy.

Where are You my beloved
Where are You my Lord?

Tropical monsoon rains
pelt my face with a
thousand kisses
I feel You in every drop

Where are you hiding Beloved
Where are You?

Warm winds laden with
fragrance of Your presence
embrace me
You live in every silken caress

Where are You?

Ardor of sun's rays
leaves me breathless
You fan the embers
of my blushing heart
I am shining! I am shining!

Where are You my very breath?

Choir of birds chant Your name
Hari Nam
trees in the forest bend low
cast garlands and fruit
at Your lotus feet
I wander through Paradise with You

Where are you Hari?
Where are You?

"Where is God?
God is in you, with you, in front of you, around you"
- Bhagavan Sri Sathya Sai Baba

As , I walk between the trees
There energy pulses in me
It's a wonderful blessing
To feel there beauty
What they do
How they grow
It truly amazes me
The live through years
of rain and snow
They survive fires
Yet still stand tall
That is strength
That is a gift
we all could use
A tree can be so many things
It can be wild and free
It can be colors of red
A tree can live for years
But if we do not give it
the respect it deserves
We could destroy and loose
When you stand in a forest
Stop and listen
You will hear it's
voice it's song
You will feel it's pulse
The trees will talk and sing to you
So take a walk among the trees
So you may experience the
beauty of trees
and let me tell you
it's worth a walk or two
this , I promise you.

© Jennifer L Delong 4/13/2021

When I feel unable to take a deep breath,
And these shallow hallow skips hasten,
it doesn’t catch until I compress my ribcage flush against my spine and it feels like they’re knocking against one another in what I imagine is a bony xylophone playing a low note that reverberates at the base of my throat.
It feels good for a second but only just that.
And then I take another 10 to 15 cursory breaths that slip off of each other,
hoping this restriction, this deprivation, would make the next One Big Deep Breath so much more satisfying, so much sweeter.
When I’m in that moment I think

Is anything sacred?
I get scared that maybe we’re so empowered that we’ve moved past the need for sanctity.
And the fact that I worry about this, that I need this world to legitimize having something to cling to, maybe that means I’m not empowered.
And what does it mean today for me not to be empowered? That I’m not so brave? That I have so much privilege that lets me live in this space where I don’t have to be so brave?
I wonder why sacred things seem so exclusionary, why only certain lands, certain experiences, certain people hold this dominion. And if something was everywhere could it ever be sacred, like air or dirt, but also like pop music and printed t-shirts.
I get a bit lost in these thoughts for a while and then notice that I can in fact breathe normally again, which is good news, and a relief.
And yes, I think to myself, air is very sacred. But only when you need it, or more specifically only when you’re conscious of needing it.
And then my thoughts evolve into something kinder like,

Can anything be sacred?
Can I let things be sacred to me, even when I have them already, in abundance?
Can I let go of this puritanical idea that fear of loss is a prerequisite for value?
It also implies, Can I let myself hold on to moments that I want to hold on to and not question whether it makes me weak or dumb or immature? Or even, can I allow myself to question it, but know that the answer, no matter what it is, isn’t an insult or a deeply troublesome flaw? It’s just an observation at a point in time, and the ego doesn’t need to bare the brunt of a lashing because of it. Maybe this is a type of empowerment, which is a realization that makes me feel good, confident even.
Which leads to a bolder question,

Is everything sacred?
And can I conceptualize that everything can be sacred, without turning it into a paradox? In both absolute and relative terms, that by seeing everything in this world as sacred, it doesn’t negate the concept itself, and in turn doesn’t mean that nothing is. It just means that it can all be valuable. There is inherent wealth in it all. And wow, what a calming thought that is. Maybe because I am a part of ‘everything’, and so this blanket definition of value covers me too. I breathe easy to that idea, aware now of the steady inhale and the significance of it all. I can close my eyes and take comfort in the slowness, relax a clenched jaw and let my mind hypnotically revolve around a question that’s answer is yes.

I got this idea I would write you a poem,
One you could read sitting safely at home,
Or keep with you out and about while you roam.

A poem about all of the memories I held sacred,
Laughing, singing, kissing, and cuddling in bed,
One to remind you our time wasn't wasted.

So I laced up my heart and I shrugged on my soul,
I popped open my noggin and I went for a stroll,
Right down Memory Lane and left at the Rabbit Hole.

I kept on goin' 'til I hit a velvet rope with posts of brass,
But I musta gotten too close to the bulletproof glass,
Cause a big grumpy guard threw me out on my...

I realized, still rolling, it's all one massive museum,
Motionless memories mummified so I can keep 'em,
Lined up and locked away, as if someone would steal 'em.

Arduously ordered, organized for instant access,
A mental palace fit to make even Sherlock jealous,
That Dewey Decimal dude don't got nothin' on this.

The slide shows replay every minute on the minute,
Time-compressed and Tetrised-in so each moment fits,
Bio-digitally encoded on neurode and inked onto skin.

Tear-rusty gears grind waterlogged cogs in reverse,
This melancholy machine made to reflect you in verse,
Is a planetarium perpetually projecting my universe.

I want to remember You
On my bed of stars
final kiss goodbye
to pink peach sunrises
purple peacock sunsets

I want to remember You
Beloved Sai
Wind blown hair on
luminous banks
of the Chitravati
Marvelous miracles
that only God could create

I want to remember
Your glorious eyes
embracing mine
and the healing touch
of Your holy hand

I want to remember You... Sai

I want to remember You... Sai

I went for an adventurous walk through a wooded lot next to our house this afternoon.

It's Spring break and the neighborhood kids bursting with jubilant energy, boisterous laughter and inate curiosity showed me a path through the densely knitted patch of forest. Their bright little elfin faces, venturesome spirits made me feel like a child again, only taller, lol.

They wanted show me the fort they had built further into the thicket, but good sense reigned when I observed the thorny winding branches, briar and looping vines,
I graciously declined.

I thought to myself, "Oh what a wonderful spot to sit and write poetry... and meditate...
when the kids were back in school, lol.

An interesting thing happened before the election,
both parties were rooting for their chosen candidate
with fever pitched excitement.
David and I favored the
Biden/Harris ticket.
in fact, first time ever we planted
a sign on our front lawn.

Everyday felt like a horse race.
Then one evening as we went
for a relaxing stroll,
we ran into a neighbor who was
an avid horticulturist,
he was perched on the side
of the road examining wildflowers
he looked at us and
said, "I don't mean to be political
but do you know what this flower is called?"
I said, "Daisy?" It was a small
dainty daisy looking blossom
he said, "It's called the
Biden family Daisy."  
Both David and I gasped with delight
What an auspicious omen,
all was boding well for Biden/Harris.

Then post election, after Biden/Harris
won the presidency
and the fervor and tension calmed down,
I noticed on a morning jaunt
Biden Daisy families exploding in size.
They romped through
urban street meadows, neighborhood lawns
sides of the road,
their jolly miniature white and
yellow pinwheel faces
bobbing in the breeze.

Suddenly my eyes caught
something quite unusual,
the white pearl petals on some of
the Biden family daisies
had transformed into
vibrant purple amethyst petals
"How Royal!" I thought to myself
and befitting our new leaders

The feet I love to kiss
walks towards me
on soft pink lotus clouds
my sari flutters in the
poignant breeze
from every pore of my body
a rose blossoms and
falls at His adorable feet
I bow low to the Earth
the fragrance of Eternity
envelops me
His Heavenly beauty
deepens with every step
I cling to the feet
that will ferry me across
the raging ocean
Dear One have mercy
Save your Devotee