BahaiCards

A Golden Future

These dark days will pass

one into another

and flow away

down eternity's

infinite river.

There will come a day when

in our innocence and light,

we will not remember

how it was.

And we will look to history

to enlighten and share a

probable cause.

We will recite mythological tales

from long lost books

on ancient, apocalyptic wars

and of destructions'

mysterious, golden paved road

to the Universal Peace.

Yes, let these dark days pass

one into another.

Martha Meshberg

This Forest

We walk in this forest together,

eyes lowered and searching.

Ears tuned to every note...listening.

Our nostrils inhale life around us

and our hands reach out to touch.

Our bodies merge in unison

until our souls cry out

with love.

In day and night, black and white,

hot and cold, young and old,

breathing out and breathing in

where life begins and duality ends...

where all things

become

One...

we walk

in this forest

together...

Martha Meshberg

The White Native

I was that familiar stranger

you sought to never know

at the Pow Wow's of long ago.

You thought I was not of you.

My eyes were blue.

My hair, golden and flaxen,

did not compare

to your braided and raven black.

My skin fair and pale

not Native Indian

Red.

You thought my dance

strange and unaligned,

somehow not so Tribal, nor refined.

Your beaded Moccasins

did not fit into my shoes.

Though I danced,

you swore

I wore no feather...

From a lost tribe in time I came

to alight upon my ancient claim,

to chant Shamanic words

of the Dane's Nordic spell,

and to hum Gaelic tunes-

Irish Stepping as well.

To pitch my tent near a meadow and forest

and count my family as ONE and ALL of us,

to gather Grandmother's rich medicine and lore

from the ancient ones at the Great Spirit's door.

I call like a bird to you,

beaded and feathered ones...

Oh, hear me,

beautiful red, raven haired brothers...

I am Your Long Lost White Sister!

Martha Meshberg

On Back Biting

Drop

an unkind word

and it radiates

pain

in an ever-widening ripple

across the water

of many souls

creating hurt

not for one,

but for all.

Do not

make me privy

to the darkness

of cruel intention

for I will

protectively

cover my ears

from this

fundamental

and evil

contagion.

Therefore,

I will not

speak

making you privy

to my sinister

intentions,

but I will

control

my darkened nature

not wanting

to spread

this evil

contagion.

Drop not

an unkind word

and compassion

will radiate

in an ever-widening ripple

across the water

of many souls

creating love

not for one

but for all.

Martha Meshberg

Inborn Spirit

We question our better judgment

when we find ourselves floating distantly

from the reality of the earth

into mystic retreats of longing-

to be there - rather than here,

grounded and rooted,

standing like trees

solidly planted on the earth.

We may believe

the earthly soil intended for our growth

must weather every draught and flood,

must undergo every seasonal change

prior to passing with readiness, into

the beyond of other promised worlds.

Still, having stretched our branches

seemingly over eons of time

toward the beckoning light

can we be blamed for our yearning?

It is the inborn spirit of continual growth

that prompts our aspiring thirst!

Where we given a choice,

we would not go later-

we would go first!

Martha Meshberg

On Consultation

We suppose being blatantly honest

poses too great a risk.

We fear honesty will brutalize

and level us to a sniveling degree

in which our personal perspectives

may perish in the mirror of our own folly.

How do we offer ourselves

to each other

in full sacrifice to trust?

Will we have to admit

that we are wrong?

Can we survive that-

with dignity?

We humans are filled with the fear

that our ego's will rebelliously explode

into uncontrollable anger, fighting

against reason and submission

until the last rationalizing breath.

We are filled with the idea

that our beliefs and personal experiences are sacred.

So, we hang on,

promoting our views boldly

or try discretely to "save the world"

with our words

in between the lines.

But, there is a saving Principle

with which I have become familiar.

It is called "Consultation".

It requires that all available opinions

be quietly heard

and held as equally valid.

No person may make condemning judgements or statements

upon anothers thought.

All are required to listen respectfully

and to contemplate

"the clashing of opinions" until, through this process, a truth or answer

makes itself obviously known to all.

(or the majority)

Generally, this trains the mind

to leave it's ego behind

for the greater good, creating

unity and harmony

rather than disharmony,

argument and debate.

Consultation, when used

in personal relationships,

carries the same benefit.

So, how may we offer ourselves

to each other in full sacrifice to trust?

How do we avoid our fear

of being wrong?

How do we maintain ourselves

in dignity?

Through the Principle of Consultation, for

"Through the clashing of opinions,

the truth will arise"

Martha Meshberg

Inner Quest

Further from the stars

than ever,

I redesign my plan...

I shall capture

it's secret within

the nine points

of the star blanket quilt...

and paint with colored sand

a healing medicine

from my own hand.

At night ,

I shall howl

with the wolves

into the dark

and wait for the

answer to echo

and fill my heart.

All shall be

as self-evident

as flowing water and wind

exposing encrypted layers

of redrock meaning

from the canyon

at the Great Spirit Wall.

Martha Meshberg

These Hands

These hands tell my story of being.

They are the keys to what lies

within my heart.

These hands make music

that all might hear life's blessesd song.

These hands paint

both strife and care from the garden

of God's limitless love.

These hands pen perfected words

to weave tapestries of meaning

for open and searching hearts.

And these hands collect and gather

every living thing

with utmost conscious care

to proclaim Love and

Universal Peace

among the highest

forms of art.

Martha Meshberg

A Truth

Slicing open the apple,

all is exposed

before my eyes.

For I perceive

beginning and end

in naked truth.

From the central core

the seeds of life lie nestled

within the moist sweet meat

of ripened fruit.

Martha Meshberg

DNA

DNA...the poetry of all life.

God's art-forms,

like mirrored visions through time,

rise from the very Heart of Love.

Martha Meshberg

Offering

Continually holding back urgent knowledge

as a great secret untold- fearful of failing

by offering overmuch, I try to be subtle!

Having found the Most Holy Nectar,

its fragrance wafts mysteriously among

the thirsting honey bees.

A knowledge so bright that it compels me to overflow

with the absolute sweetness of the flower of my soul.

Tasting of my nectar, many cringe in disbelief

swearing this saccharine sweetness could not be

genuine honey.

This offering is for the searching, for those

who have left the ancestral hive

thirsting for a new golden elixir

that will continue and sustain all life.

For those who would drink, I offer

the open, eternal flame

of my full and glowing heart.

For those who shrink,

I offer a silent, healing prayer

and in peace, I depart.

Martha Meshberg

Sentiment

God bless the prayers

of the peoples of the world.

Chanted from the hearts

of true believers.

God speed Melodies of the Kingdom

uniting the cares of all religions.

Martha Meshberg

Having Observed Them on Their Deathbeds

It was only the Age that betrayed their

simple and transparent self indulgence.

Did they really believe that the vastness of life

held nothing for them?

Self involvement blinded them to their own folly.

Innocent fools that they were-

(Though their purity may have been questionable).

Yes, We heard them bleating and groaning

in fevered and depressing tones, coloring

the already darkened world with yet,

darker shades of despair.

Finding in that, an over-intellectualized macabre

to righteously share with the competing mobs

of those whom they identified as

among their own.

Wallowing in hell for the sake of it

never offered them a wholesome truth.

Only that which captured the imagination,

molding their simple, weak, and impetuous minds

into believing that Hades was all there was.

They stuck needles into their arms -to kill the pain

(they forgot about doing anything real

what would have been the use?)

They emptied Vodka bottles and had more sex

to fix

what couldn't be fixed,

Then, blamed it on Jesus, selling their souls as

a kind of "right of passage" and were very sure

to be cynically vocal about it.

Judgement? They dared not speak of it.

In self imprisoned wisdom,

they mocked at fate, saying:

"Let time be the great discoverer of all lies

Exposing who and who is not

an insult to humanity".

We ask:

Did they lie in the green pastures

or chose their own deathbeds?

Being inexperienced, they knew nothing

but of their body's ceaseless demands.

Craving made it real, made them feel

the torture and undeserving horror of it.

The Planet looked forward to a time

when questioning and honest minds

would turn their backs on their own abuse, and

recognize that society was indeed a mess.

That solitary and selfish complaining would cease,

that emotional suicide would only add

to the very thing

which they so boisterously decried.

Verily, having wanted

to do something

about the rottenness of the world,

They got up off the couch of inner conflict, then

MADE IT A BETTER WORLD.

Martha Meshberg

Spirit of Ignorance

Who is afraid of the Specter

that comes from the dark night

of the soul?

What veil obscures the vision

of the ones who look upon evil

with blinded eyes?

What spirit possesses minds

and drowns tender hearts?

What wicked entity is it

that tears this world apart?

Every man fears his own

reckoning, his darkest reflection

staring back at him

from the mirror of his soul...

veiled blind

by those material conquests

for power and gold which hold hostage

as pawns

our poor and unfortunate brothers

to the spirit of greed

and power hungry nations.

It is the Spirit of Ignorance

which animates and gives life

to the wickedness of prejudice

and all hostilities steming from

race, class, religion and gender.

Is it no wonder

that we find fear

in our own faces?

That we are challenged each day

by what is held deep and hidden within-

inside

the eyes and soul who we are?

That we are indeed the

individually responsible guardians

for the outcome of the world?

Searching my heart

at the end of each day,

I call myself

strictly and consciously

to account.

Martha Meshberg

"Feast"

My thirst leads me

to the Fountain

flowing with the Water

of the radiant Friend-

Faces beaming with light,

warm, sparkling eyes

beholding me,

knowing me,

bathing me,

in unconditional acceptance

and exquisite love.

Lord,

It is not the venue

nor structure of the program

or the arrangement of chairs

or the long sequence

of messages, devotions and prayers

that finds me continually returning there....

It is He Whom

I meet and greet-

in every loving embrace and gesture,

in all of these sensitive and deep

regarding eyes,

in the spiritual rapture of devotional sighs,

in the sweetmeat of simple, joyous, and

contagious laughter,

in the sacred, encouraging,

inebriating wine of life giving words.

It is He

that personally fills

this chalice

to overflowing

from a Fountain

of love and peace-

that I may drink

the Wine of Bounty

freely flowing

at every spiritual "Feast".

Martha Meshberg

The Turning Point (Sept.11, 2001)

Innocent white doves

ensnared by the talons

of the birds of prey

become the instrument of

calamity and tragedy,

circling the skies

with helpless cries.

The piercing eyes of evil

target

the lambs of slaughter

and topple

towers of devastation,

anguish and bereavement

into the consciousness

of the global mind.

WE are left here

in stark loneliness

cast into the abyss

of outraged grief,

meeting evil face to face

in his depravity and vile wretchedness,

bleeding, wounded, and numbed

with despair-

all by the abominable perversion

and abased miscarriage

of a Prophets words.

What an acrid infamy!

In the name of God Almighty,

this was done! In the name of

fundamental fanaticism and hatred,

the whole world

shall be branded

and tried by this satanic fire!

Yet, our spirits, as a sacrament,

shall not yield

to these wicked ones

nor shall our bodies succumb

to holocaust

without notice or care.

A prism of light shall shine

with resplendence

from the hearts and actions of All

who have suffered, at the hands

of those incarnations of evil.

A holy wine shall flow

from those who have been martyred,

who have offered their lifeblood

both bravely and innocently-

in a quest for global peace

and Divine Justice .

From these crimson stained ashes,

the Divine Phoenix shall rise-

resurrecting the soul

of our melancholy world

with new life.

Martha Meshberg

The Gates of Hell

The gates of hell

stand open and gaping

in the dropped jaw

of shock

and agonizing anger....

Fire blazes high

singe-ing human hearts,

wafting acrid smoke

into vengeful, screaming lungs,

devouring the

splintered dried wood

of lost spirits

as tinder

for the fire of

"America's New War".

Raging and red necked

we feel our lowered horns

sharpen as daggers...

Will we witness

our own tongues flicker

in prejudicial hypocrisy

as we brandish

a "righteous" cross...

spilling more innocent blood

for the sake

of our hatred and vindication?

Will we stop short

in time

to recognize

our Brothers and Sisters

who have committed

no crime?

Will we try, convict and annihilate

a whole culture

rather than the

guilty few?

God save us

from ourselves

and

such gates of hell

opening and gaping wide.

Martha Meshberg

Get a Grip

I want to quell

this nauseating fear,

to somehow face

the trivial stack

of dirty dishes looming

and piling high

in my kitchen sink,

To turn off

the flowing tears of music

capturing and holding me hostage

to a world of grief...

To remove the absolutely rude

and blaring TV

recounting the surreal varieties

of our "western mentality".

To erase the catch phrased,

mind numbing and

over-produced broadcasts

of "America's New War"

from my vocabulary.

I long to bury my head in the sand,

to plug my ears and cover my eyes,

to go to bed, pulling the blankets

over my head...

to not dwell endlessly

on the innocent, martyred

dead....or to reckon

on those

whose precious lives and futures

may end

in the bloody battles

of the morrow.

Yet, we are all hostages here,

trying to get a personal grip,

to steer our fragile and damaged ships-

tossing helplessly

in violent, turbulent seas,

treading water and floundering,

in these nameless

and countless expressions

of human anger

and inconsolable grief...

reluctantly awaiting

from the hidden quarters and

fathomless depths beneath,

those shredding teeth of

bloodthirsty, hungry sharks

circling silently and stealthily ...

targeting the soft belly

of all mankind.

Martha Meshberg

Dearest Mother

She is now ill...

weakened and wearied

by the replayed sorrows

of time

which have led her

innocently

down a re-paved road

of wars

nearly forgotten.

Her deeply sorrowful eyes

gaze moistly and fearfully

into mine- knowingly,

framed by her beautiful

silver-white hair

of history

and calamitous times.

As I grasp

delicate and aging hands,

her helpless tears brim

and seep into

my bleeding heart.

Mother, my dearest Mother-

These "Rumors of Wars"

shall never tear our grateful,

luminous and loving

Baha'i spirits apart.

Martha Meshberg

Mister Spider

Not so rock solid

in my gut-level control

over instinctual

and basic fears,

or so "enlightened"

in my purported love

for creatures great and small,

I was totally "creeped out"

by a little spider

who crawled blackly

across my hand

from within the interior of my keyboard

as I typed away

in innocent and unprepared

oblivion.

Eeeeeeoooohhh!

Flicking the poor little guy

to the floor, I made a hasty advance

to squish the miserable little intruder

into nothingness, noticing

as I was about to put my heavy foot down,

the absolute bravery

and courage he displayed

as he reared up

on his hairy little legs

in a readied and defensive stance,

staring me completely down!

Seeing him there, all up front

in his right

to eight-legged Being

completely changed my heart,

so for now,

we're never really very far apart-

He's just another part of my computer...

Awww, poor little guy,

I just couldn't do it!

Martha Meshberg

My Admonishment

You speak

oh so graciously

of "not having seen" me

so often,

that it seems to me

you judge me as

absent

from my spiritual post...

as not

living up to your

defintion of duty and

community obligation

or social expectations.

I hear your mime

loud and clear:

an invisible pointing finger

of stern admonishment

coming my way

with a rude and unthinking

sway...

Won't you take the time and care

to see and understand

the real ME... please?

I am not a clone

prone to polite, crossed legged decorun

or "genuflecting sanctimonium".

I am a Baha'i,

like you, devoted

and steadfastly married

to the Light of God's Word....

to treat me as anything than other

is completely absurd!

I am a solitary artist

(unlike you),

devoted and steadfastly married

to manifesting a prisimed share

of God's Diversified Light-

I am a creative custodian

responsible to the blessing of

His designated gifts

through my all- consuming work...

to treat me as anything than other

is ignorantly absurd!

We are where God has best placed us...

wouldn't you agree?

Martha Meshberg

Precious Love

Is hatred

so deep a pain

that it will never

know love again?

Where are

the bright innocent,

loving and trusting eyes,

of the dear nappy headed child

I once knew?

How you push me

scornfully and remotely

away-

what can I ever say or do

that you will not receive

as just another form

of targeted bigotry?

So disgusting

am I

to your cynical

outraged and angry eyes.

I am helplessly at a loss.

There is nothing I can do...

to satisfy the rage

flaming

within you, save

allowing you

to pull the wings

off this broken hearted fly, then

squish me and my

"patronizing love"

into nothing but a moist spot

on the pavement...

Save, laying down my life

in nothingness before you...

..which would be in your view,

much "to easy".

All I know is that

we once loved each other,

here, in our colorless hearts.

Here, where once

mutual tears blended

in a compassionate and human,

life-giving, surging sea...

Is it so wrong of me

to continue longing

for your precious

lost love

and racial unity?

Martha Meshberg

Beached

Beached,

I try rolling over-

sinking deeper

into the sand.

Lying helplessly

here

on my flabby side,

I allow the salt sea

to wash over me,

feeling it seep

beneath my motionless body-

receding and pulling away

a few measly

grains of sand

from a mountain of foundation.

So lazy that I can't speak,

I draw figures

and signs in the sand:

"looks like

I'll be beached here

for most of the week".

Martha Meshberg

Beyond These Cloudbanks

I am waiting to float away

on the ethereal journey

beyond these cloudbanks

of earthly fear

into the realms

of prisimed light

where victorious souls

freely gather and swirl.

I am longing to chant

my heart felt praise

in warm melodious tones-

joining my soul

to the deepened glow

of majestic Aurora Lights,

To raise my voice among the

Maids of Heaven

and Angels glorious songs

to herald God's mystic

and healing notes

upon a New

and awakened world .

Martha Meshberg

Beauteous One

I am with you

and my gaze is locked at once

in mysterious surrender.

Your eyes hold mine

in an engulfing flow of love

nearly too exquisite to endure.

For what is written in the heart

may be known

only between mystic lovers.

Living ink flows

from one to the other

in a silent wind

in which the attar of contentment

and certitude mingle unhindered.

Who is this One

but my true self

that perceives the All of it?

Who regards the Wounded Sorrow of it,

the Longing Deseert of it?

The overwhelming Joy,

Wisdom and Justice of it?

It is I, Eye to Eye.

Mother to Mother,

Daughter to Daughter.

Soul to Soul,

Spirit to Spirit.

A Rose to a Rose.

Martha Meshberg

Here Lies a Danger

From deep inside,

I rebel

against all-knowing,

endless interpretations

of paradise.

Correcting if's, and's, and but's

become the main occupation

of those competing

in self motivated

spiritual arena's.

They hear not

and drivel on

in over-intellectualized babble

so deep, mysterious, & lofty

that mere ants (such as myself)

move far

from the stomping feet of giants.

I unsubscribe from this place

of shadows

and factional forms.

Martha Meshberg

Love Poem (for E.)

My cherished one,

Seek beneath the lines on my face,

and you shall perceive

my translucent and glowing heart.

There, within my breast

lives my fragrant reality

and secret warmth.

The deepest knowing radiates

from within this hallowed,

enlightened place,

permeating my every

outward act with grace.

No word or song can fill love's

sacred silence nor fill an empty sea.

Naught but Light could compare

to the love I share with thee.

Martha Meshberg

Dear Girl

Don't you understand

that YOU are

angry with me?

I am waiting for you

to share with me truthfully.

Must I be made responsible

for dragging it out of you?

I am not your enemy,

but the mirror by which

you may discern and free yourself.

I would be happy to reflect upon and

wipe away your misgivings

if you'd give me a fair chance.

Instead, you cirlce around me

like a sniffing, moody dog...

Only hinting at your mistrust...growling

in between the lines inaudibly.

I'm waiting for you to take responsibility

for your pain

and your anger.

When I reach out to you

it's through bars

in which you are imprisoned.

I want to free you

from your self imposed cell,

but you must first

GIVE ME THE KEY!

Martha Meshberg

Awake and Striving

Oh God! Forgive Me.

I remember each mistrusting face,

each synical gesture,

Every unkind word

and misguided judgement.

And I try not

to "take it personally."

Deep wounds refuse to relinquish me

and I remain enslaved

to powerful scripts from the past.

Slowly dying here, I grope

for ownership of a new and reborn

empowerment not dependant upon

others' reward or rebuff.

Oh Lord,

Let me not judge those who judge me.

Nor let me be blinded by my own refusal

to take in the manifest lights and attributes

in front of my face!

We are all so small

in our self orientated worlds.

In this I am surely not alone.

For this, I might take it upon myself

to bestow mercy

where none may be returned.

Martha Meshberg

Amphibian

I live within two realms

like an amphibian

who balances life

between water and air.

I am a captive

of earth

while my spirit resides

in the World of Light.

Unlike the frog,

I have no lillypad to support me

as I hang in space clinging

to the threads

of Divine Word.

Within these limits

I am bound and expected

to survive;

to shed a glipse of God's

universal light

unto the dark sepulcher

of a dying world.

Martha Meshberg