Useless but loving

I like those who lie in hospital beds

thinking that they are useless
but appreciate all the small acts of kindness of friends and families
I like those who moves slowly in wheelchairs
saying excuse me, pardon me with their eyes
still enjoys the fall sunset, praising the Creator
I like those babies doing nothing but being cute
without demanding “Adore me!” but being adored
as if their job is to be loved
They are like blank space in oriental paintings
make the whole universe complete
without doing something but just being
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Peach Tree

I have a peach tree

I can see many peaches hanging there
When did it happen?
I have walked by it everyday
I did not water them
I did not even look at them carefully
When did it happen?
Must be at night
when I sleep every night
The tree must have invited all kinds of
winds, birds, sunlight, and water
Wait, sunlight at night?
Well, mysterious things happen
I do not know anything
who know? Secret sunlight may come at night
I wonder what happen under the ground
What I see is just many peaches
hanging there to serve birds, animals, and my family
They may not know my plan for Harvest
but I will harvest them anyway because they are ripe and juicy
They will be great for many occasions!
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A new year prayer

Lord, tell me to come out of the boat

to walk on the water

It may be just a few steps

that I can enjoy on the water

still I will remember

saying, “I walked on the water once.”

Help me to focus on you,

you alone, not the wave

I saw you walking on the water

at night in the storm

That is what I want

Let me walk on the water

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At a restaurant

I saw a man

His face told me that he was a man of hard labor

A little boy was eating a bowl of food in front of him

Must be his son

By his side, a young girl, nibbled a small dish

Must be his daughter

A young lady, must be his wife

A mother of two children

Made giggling sound from time to time to tell some stories

Ah, he looked happy

That was the scene that I could not add any more to make them happier

I remember once I too

Ate dinner in a small restaurant in a small town

With my little children

With my young wife

I bless him from the bottom of my heart

Would he bless other man someday

In a small restaurant in a little town?

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My job is being loved 

First by my creator then by my parents

Now by my family and friends

By my furry friends

Then by wind and sun

By the leaves and flowers

By the trees and fruits

By the flowing streams and brooks 

I am getting old and weak

Forgetful and clumsy 

Big belly and wobbly legs

Wrinkled face and dim eyes

Still loved

Sinner throughout the whole life

Selfish most of the time

Wandering around without knowing 

But I know one thing that I am loved by you!

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I saw the light

When I see the light

I drop the stone that I had held for a long time

looking for someone to be a target

I would dump my anger

my despair and sorrow

onto the target creature of the divine

I wanted to find excuses of all my misfortunes

all my wrongdoings from there

not to blame myself

When I see the light

I see my naked soul

it was a sinner’s cry

I cannot blame God

I would not blame my neighbors

I know that it was my hand with stones

In the light

I planted an acorn

Now it is a forest of acorns

Every morning I can

smell the acorns with the image

of love and peace everywhere.

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All are beautiful 

In this season of harvest 

Under the blue sky

Do not regret, saying

You have wasted your time

You have gathered nothing

You are the fruit

You are the pride

Of the Creator

You are the old beauty

With wrinkles and aching body

With pure smile of the mortal

Wind can sweep you away like fallen leaves 

Autumn sun light can dry you up like a spider web

Star light can tinkle you like an acorn rolled by a squirrel 

Do not cry

Over the passing of lives 

All are beautiful and you are 

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Stars at night

Grandmother, great grand mother

All mothers before them

Are shining in daylight

When we do not see them 

At night

When all the glittering success fade away

They start talking 

About their joys and memories

Listening to them all night

Is my life 

That brings me to life

For a dusty construction day

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I embraced your dreams that you planted

I water them and grew them as a faithful gardener

Then I wait

Wait for the rain of grace

Wait for the sun-light-heat of love

Wait for the sign of life

Now when the temperature invites frost

They bring their fruits

Waiting for harvests

Waiting for the feasts for all

Waiting for the hungry guests 

There will be joyful hosts

Laughters and giggles

Busy servants

Stories to tell

And a big circle of love 

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Forgotten fruits

Trees are never tired of producing 

uneaten, unmattered fruits 

They keep repeating the same old patterns

without any excuse

I feel safe and secured

when I tread upon those small

smashed fruits under my feet

feeling their scream of silence

With those small unnoticed plants

They become pride of thousands of gardens of old farmers

waiting to be named and described in a poem

Until that time

they will appear again next autumn

smashed and tread upon again

with timeless joy and hope

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One by one

families and friends passed away

as an invitation for me to come

to the still place

where we can find peace together

without racism, wild-fire, COVID-19, and turmoils in Afghanistan

We are all connected

to the One who gives and takes away

forms, sizes, colors, and tones of our bodies

Beyond all those diverse beauty

is the inner beauty

the image of God we all share

The image that we have destroyed for long long time

the image shattered by the waves and winds of the water

the image restored at the center of the Cross

When all the nails are nailed down

and the crown of thorns was put on

we will weep at the bottom of the Cross

For the sins we have committed

for the mistakes that we have made

for the indifference that we have displayed

as we scratch the doors to be open

waiting for us to be accepted

lonely and alone

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Fire and stars

Because of the smoke

my eyes are itching

my nose is stuffed

I realized that this morning smoke

was somebody’s home yesterday

someone was playing with her pet

families sat around the table

Now they all floated into my garden

to plead their innocence

to report to me that they were once alive

loved and touched

They do not just want to be called

Dixie Fire or Clear Lake Fire

someone still remember their stories

they can be stars and shine their lights

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