The Hermit

by Justine C. Tajonera

I met a hermit at the peak
of a mountain
who had given up
the world
and all its concerns.
He was past the need
for survival
and the accumulation
of coin.
He was past the need
for leaving
legacies
for his children.
He spoke with the mountain
and the mountain
spoke with him.
He told me that
he gave up
so much
to know the
simplicity
of freedom.

I am the hermit.
You are
the hermit.
Perhaps,
not in
this life.

Image from
Photo credit : (cc-by-nc-nd) Bruno Monginoux / www.Landscape-Photo.net : nature and urban photography, free stock photos 

Entering the Light

by Justine C. Tajonera

There are days when
I have time to study
the shadow of a leaf
at the edge of a wading pool
or glimpse the reddish
tint of dawn before
my alarm clock rings.

There are days when
I can watch my son sleep
and wait for him to slowly
awaken with a smile on his face
or the slightly puzzled look
of someone just emerging
from a dream.

These are the days that are
enough,
when time is not a measure
but a great expanse,
a canvas of possibilities.

I know because there are
also days, in equal or greater
number,
when there is just not
enough:
a chasing of hours
into the exhaustion of
evenings,
a blur or repetition
of motions.

In the quiet palm
of good days
I rest my questioning,
my drive to
finish what needs
to be finished

and hold the flickering
light and comfort
of solitude and
happiness where they
can shine
in their immeasurable
brightness.


October 5, 2010
Image from http://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/337143