Poem: A Wild Thing

By Larry Ward

The bones of our ancestors still dance

At ease in the field of magic stardust

An ounce of poetry from long ago

The crane says, “I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself. A tiny bird will drop dead, frozen, from a bough of a tree without having once felt sorry for itself”.

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By Larry Ward

The bones of our ancestors still dance

At ease in the field of magic stardust

An ounce of poetry from long ago

The crane says, “I never saw a wild thing feel sorry for itself. A tiny bird will drop dead, frozen, from a bough of a tree without having once felt sorry for itself”. *

In the thick jungles of Costa Rica I was told mother

My mother had passed away

Through the veil of no coming and no going she went

Heart broken I wandered for days

Walking jungle trails

Going no where but sorrow

Trapped in a cloud of sadness.

The cry of an unknown bird cracked open the moment

Ripe! Ripe! Ripe it was! For something, for anything, to heal my savaged soul.

Music of my roots rose up from the earth,

Like a rainbow bridge supporting every step as I climbed grief’s holy mountain

A path wet with the salt of bitter tears.

Sometimes I forget music’s vibrations can touch and quake places

The Mind dares not go, kneading, holding, inviting

With notes of wonder and surprise,

Healing pain, the pain of the second sorrow, created by an arrow fashioned by my own hands

Plucked from my own quiver and shot with my own bow, Into my own heart.

Picked up on the dusty road of wounded souls

The sacred carriage of music lifted me up from the edge of grief’s deep pit

On the wings of sound I rode to the mysteries of grace and peace

Moment! By moment! By moment!

The music says, “Take up your rightful residence in your Hale Mana, your spiritual house.”

The music says, “Come on in, come on in, come on in,

Enter the clear light of sweet music.”

The music says,

“Take your stand on the back of the fearless dragon of wisdom and compassion

Let go of the gossamer threads of regret

Still attached to your beating heart.

Now catch your precious breath

Right now! Right now! Right now!”

Music is a wild thing

Music is a wild thing

Music is a wild thing

* A reference to the D.H. Lawrence poem titled “Self-Pity” from Pansies (London: Martin Secker, 1929)

Larry Ward, True Great Sound, is the director of the Lotus Institute, an adjunct faculty member at Claremont Graduate University and University of the West, and a Ph.D. student in Religious Studies. With Peggy Rowe-Ward, he co-authored Love’s Garden: A Guide to Mindful Relationships. He received Dharma teacher transmission in 2000 from Thich Nhat Hanh.

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What is Mindfulness

Thich Nhat Hanh January 15, 2020

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