I could hear the grass laugh.

Gallery

This gallery contains 4 photos.

When the sky closes up, it stops raining. Grass grows where it’s planted and dies silently with hardly any rain for the past three months. The care given to this grass is better than a Persian carpet. Who needs a carpet when I … Continue reading

Who has seen the Wind?

Earth, Wind, Fire and Water are the quintessential natural forces of nature.
We can see the earth, fire and water but not the Wind.

Who has seen the wind, neither your nor I

Who has seen the wind, neither your nor I

Do we have to see it to believe it?

Who Has Seen the Wind?
BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Forces of Nature.”

 

Pay Attention

grass

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”

~ Praying by Mary Oliver (Thirst)

Grass, what are you telling me?

Van Gogh Grass

It was high noon, the sun was its peak, and the heat was scorching in an open arena in the middle of nowhere in Denver, Colorado.  There is a light breeze, not a single bird flying yet I could hear the chirping in the sound of silence.

Where is everybody?

Moving towards the hill, I could see a mirage of two people.  When I came closer to the top, there is a lake and the figure I saw where two men fishing silently.  I walked towards them, nodded my head to acknowledge their presence and walked away quietly to keep the sacredness and not to scare the fishes away.

Returning to the threshold that I walked through, I sat on the ground, leaned against the fence to shelter me from the heat.  The tall grass covers me and we settled down in the quiet of our being.

Gently I touch the blades of grass, caressing it and in return, the grass tickles me.  We are both pleased with each other’s company.  Giving and receiving the sheer pleasure of doing nothing.

What a wonderful afternoon, feeling what is that I cannot name and then suddenly, I started crying, uncontrollably.  It was so strange to feel the joy and grief at the same time.

Grass, what are you telling me?

When the emotional state I was in subsided, I said goodbye to the grass and thank it for having me.  Then I returned to my friend’s place that I was visiting.  Tomorrow, I am going home to Canada.

The following day before departing I quickly run to the fence, cross the threshold to say hello and goodbye to the grass. Shocked, I was so devastated what I saw.  The grass was cut down.  Gone.

Grass, is this what you were telling me yesterday?

Painting: Van Gogh