Michael Rastovich

I once was young and stupid.

I am older now, but have retained my youthful stupid.

There is a place that I go whenever I paint. Within this place I am complete, fulfilled and at peace. Even as I am wrangling paint. Even as I struggle to understand what needs to be done there is an effortlessness because whatever I do, does not do much and if I do wrong, I am forgiven.

This place which I go I have put down roots there and can return there whenever I remember who I am.

As I see myself, God sees me also and we sit together for a while and admire our work.

The melting snow

will rinse away

the collected salts

of winter fallen tears

from roots, deep darkest

now thirsting for the spring.

As glacial droplet falls with glee,

another drop first tastes the sea.

All the waters in between,

memories of what will be.

I get a notion by the feeling I get while thinking of something else.

From the wind of these wings, bits of what I was thinking about get swept up in it.

And the thing that I think with thinks, that he just wrote a poem.

 

A flute calls.

The echo pauses,

has it’s say

then fades away.

When a child ever asks…

“Why?”

The answer should always be…

“I wonder about that too.”

Then the child will see…

The open heart endures.

And the man will  see…

As a child.

 

We come to understand, the Child and I, that we cannot understand… but for the wonder we have shared.

SURPRISE PARTY!

Come help me say goodbye to all my bad habits.

After many years of meaningful service they are all retiring.

Please be discrete. Not all of them know they are leaving.

Good luck old pals.

I am the sharp bark of the tree that skins your knee.

I am the sand in your eyes the grit on your teeth, the thorn in your stride.

The unnecessary but inevitable truth.

I am your reflection, not softened with kindness or clouded by consideration.

A reflection full force of the sun. You will squint  and turn away, for I have cast your shadow.

Turn now to face sun’s source, your shadows now behind you.