SESTINA SATURDAY: Ass On Cushion

To write sestinas, first I have to sit
And ponder on a topic. As I think
I take strange journeys deep within my mind
And memories, until at last I stop.
Ideas are tricky to pluck from the dark,
But till I do I really have no peace.

This one is all about my search for peace.
Twice daily I take time out and I sit -
Ere sunrise, a quick shower in the dark,
While eve'nings, it's my living room, I think
That is best for my effort to just stop
And tame the monkeys rambling in my mind.

For many years, I've given little mind
To anything that you'd call inner peace.
Too much to do; the chore list doesn't stop
Because I'd like to take the chance to sit
Without having to talk or write or think.
Lights out? I'd still be toiling in the dark.

But now I'm stumbling blindly in the dark
Most of the time, just trying to calm my mind.
Just for a little while, just not to think
About what's pressing me, a bit of peace
Is all I want. Still mostly when I sit,
My ass on cushion, I can't seem to stop.

But one day soon, I know that I will stop,
That I will find there waiting in the dark
Some things I need. Until then I still will sit,
And treat with patience all that plagues my mind.
(I'm sure among them is a thought of peace
That's way off base). That's what I hope and think.

I've spent a lifetime learning how to think,
'Twill take a long time, too, to learn to stop
My dwelling on the things that threaten peace
And quiet. But it's quite good to go dark
For its own sake meanwhile, and I don't mind
A little space and time to simply sit.

This poem was my chance to sit and think
About how much my mind just needs to stop
And let the dark sink in and bring some peace.

In Which I Thank My Medicine Men

It takes strange tools to patch a torn-up heart,
Takes songs and tales and poetry and play.
Comes time for me to thank those who, in part
Have made or done the things which, I may say,
Have proven the best medicine for me.
Phil Rossi wrote a song that e'en before
The hardest blow came down did help me see
A light at tunnel's end. And there is more:
For Jeremy Shipp's novel did a lot,
As did a poem by Gregory Wright
He wrote just for me, to tell me I'm not
Alone, not even in the darkest night.
Thanks too, to my White Rabbit and John Ladd:
Chess therapy is good, too, when I'm sad.