Reflecting Pool

Reflecting Pool

    As generous softness of sunlit waves,
    Traces a tender touch dance on the wall,
    Their simple serenity soothes, and saves
    A worried mind driven nearly to fall.
    The wonder of water — to bathe in light,
    Borrowed so freely from afternoon sun,
    All things of shadow, or covered by night,
    Or hiding in twilight barely begun.
    I gaze at the flickering tongues of flame,
    So energetic they might be alive;
    They call to my soul, they sing my true name,
    And they warm the garden where my dreams thrive.
    Their golden caress upon shadows cool:
    Stirs the magic of the reflecting pool.

Mick McKellar
August 2016

Watching light dance upon water and then reflect upon a wall or a window, has a magic all its own — that can bring peace and quiet to a mind troubled and fretful.

Mick

Becoming

At first, I stood alone on the bare hill;
All around me was blasted and laid waste.
I gasped, my eyes swimming, I stood stock-still
For a moment, and turned to leave in haste.

But the path that my old life had followed,
Was in darkness, or was no longer there.
I looked up to the sky and I swallowed,
Then I cried in fear — and shattered the air.

I fell, I screamed, and I pounded the soil.
The curse from my doctor's lips I denied.
I grew angry till I felt my blood boil;
When it cooled, I collapsed, and simply cried.

Deep inside, a small voice: "You're not dead yet!"
A whisper emerging from inner void?
I gathered what courage I still could get
From my self-respect, so nearly destroyed.

Still shaking, I stood and I faced ahead:
A new path, challenging, rocky, and steep
Presented itself, but not where it led.
It was full of ravines that I must leap.

I noticed a small bench, off to one side,
Hidden in shadow and offering rest.
At once, I knew t'was a place I could hide
And wait for the end, a painless quest.

I almost sat down there, but then I thought:
"Why just wait with my mind shut and numbing?"
I began walking, though fearful and fraught,
To find out just what I was becoming.

Mick McKellar
August 2016

I was asked to write about some aspect of living with cancer. I remember the trauma of receiving the diagnosis and then the apparent failure of chemotherapy. Finally, I remembered having to decide whether to pursue a blood and marrow stem cell transplant, or opt for home hospice care till the end.

Mick

Tending My Tea Garden

Tending My Tea Garden

Soft spring rain refreshes evergreens,
That shadow cast my stream of consciousness.
I hear silence, and wonder what it means,
As southwest winds repeat their whispered guess.
I pause to ponder why the welcome charms,
Of dappled sunlight on the em'rald stream,
Should make me feel at peace, with open arms
To gather in the pieces of my dream.
A dream of wisdom and clairvoyant sight,
Of gifts along the paths I walk, to find
Such truths as help me penetrate the night,
And light my way through darkness in my mind:
To see with clarity, but not harden
The soft sunlight, in my dream tea garden.

Mick McKellar
August 2016


Like most everyone else, I am assailed constantly by media broadcasts, by questions from those selling goods and those conducting surveys to help politicians sell me yet another bill of goods. It can be difficult to chart a path through it all and my sleeping mind seems drawn to peaceful and quiet places surrounded by life. To a peaceful tea garden in my dreams...

Mick