Third Healing Offering

Original blog post was on 2/24/12.

I would like to share my healing song, “Prayer of Lovingkindness,” which I wrote in 1996. When I read the first three stanzas below, I heard music. This was not usual for me, so I paid attention. I sat at my piano and figured out the notes I had heard. Years later, I was doing healing work with Susi Roos, NP, and she suggested adding on the second part to the song using present tense. It seemed very powerful together–and peaceful. Although originally shy about singing on my own, I’ve now sung “Prayer of Lovingkindness” at workshops, funerals, healing services, and in the surgical suite with my medical team before cancer surgery at a major Chicago teaching hospital (a story for another day). Read, listen, and sing along with my CD, Full Blooming: Selections from a Poetic Journal (track # 59). Please share.

Prayer of Lovingkindness

(music by Margaret Dubay Mikus)

The asking:

May I be at peace.
May my heart remain open.
May I awaken to the light of my own true nature.
May I be healed.
May I be a source of healing for all beings.

May you be at peace
May your heart remain open.
May you awaken to the light of your own true nature.
May you be healed.
May you be a source of healing for all beings.

May we be at peace.
May our hearts remain open.
May we awaken to the light of our own true nature.
May we be healed.
May we be a source of healing for all beings.

The answering:

I am at peace.
My heart remains open.
I am awake to the light of my own true nature.
I am healed.
I am a source of healing for all beings.

You are at peace
Your heart remains open.
You are awake to the light of your own true nature.
You are healed.
You are a source of healing for all beings.

We are at peace.
Our hearts remain open.
We are awake to the light of our own true nature.
We are healed.
We are a source of healing for all beings.

And so healing ripples out from you like a stone skipped on a clear pond.

Words adapted from the Buddhist metta (lovingkindness) meditation, (originally I read it in Pocketful of Miracles by Joan Borysenko, Ph.D.)

Recorded on Full Blooming: Selections from a Poetic Journal, (2007), track # 59. Sing along.

Please share!

Love and Only Love

This poem has been in my head lately as a reminder that no matter what struggles are going on with my body, to send it love. It is doing its best. A good way to start a new year.

Love and Only Love

Love with every stroke of the shaver,
with every lather of soap, slather of lotion, love.

Not impatience, not frustration, not disgust
at varicose veins, sags, wrinkles, scars,

but love,
with every look, every caress

at the power, the strength,
the beauty of this body in my care.

Love with every glance in the mirror
every wry smile, every tear.

Love, love and only love.
Yes, other thoughts slip in,

let them slip out,
no recrimination, no justification.

Love with every stroke,
healing in my touch, breath

and blink of an eye.
Love, love and only love.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2007

From my poetic journal

Read to the End–newly rediscovered poem

Forty-seven years ago May 25 fell on a Saturday (Memorial weekend) and Stephen and I got married at Queen of Peace Church. It was 3 weeks after my graduation from the University of Michigan and 1 week after his first year law school final exams. We were both 22 years old. We were so glad to be together we held onto each other and grinned through most of the ceremony. Even after this pandemic year, that is still true.

Here is a recently rediscovered poem from 21 years ago. When I read it to Stephen he didn’t remember the incident, but really liked the poem, so here it is.

6/29/00

Read to the End

Where can you be?
they are calling
desperate in their way
to find you

in the middle of negotiation
you walked away
stepped out…to where?
Is that when you called

me and left a message
“Talk to you at home”
two hours ago and
you are not home.

Where can you be
run off, run over
leaped off a bridge
into swift green water?

Wandering lost
down familiar, but faint
Chicago city streets?
Sudden flash of “must get out”

sudden loss of stamina
to keep on such a hard
“responsible” course
you set for yourself

thinking your sacrifice
was for us?
Where could you be—
come home to me—and talk

it through, like we always do.
Take this line I throw out to you
hold fast as I pull
you back to the safety of my arms.

**
And now the rest of the story:
You left for a meeting,
an estimate on hail damage,
and came home smiling after.

No danger, no need for worry
who knew? All that energy
wasted except to realize
once again how I love you.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2000

Recently rediscovered from my poetic journal

Cutting our wedding cake, 1974

Margaret and Stephen, Door County, WI

#poem #anniversary #love #poetry #lovepoetry

Poem for Spring About Acceptance

7:15 PM

You don’t criticize a bud
because it is not yet a flower
or judge the speed of its opening
as too slow.
It is a bud,
nature in motion,
life in process.

And when petals first unfurl,
you don’t heap harsh words
on those virgin petals.
You wait with awe
and anticipation
that should all progress
according to design,
without harshness of influence
or environment—no early
frost or late freeze,
no fire or pest or disease—
that with one invisible push,
the mature bloom opens revealing
the hidden heart in all its glory.

From Letting Go and New Beginnings: A Mother’s Poetic Journey

My Lawrence Ferlinghetti Story, part 2

Some poems insist on being sent to the one who inspired them. I try to follow that impulse, but sometimes I lose track. My poem, “Ferlinghetti Speaks,” was one of those. It was written in 2002, but I didn’t send it to him until 2014.

The push to send it was his 95th birthday and the sense that time was running out to do it. Probably urged by my voice teacher, Kip, I emailed City Lights Booksellers (begun years back by Ferlinghetti in San Francisco) to see if that was the best address to send my poems inspired by him. The staff got back to me in 1 1/2 days: “Yes, if you send them c/o the store, they will be passed on to him. Thanks.”

Encouraged, I wrote a short letter and mailed it with the two poems (the one below included). I did not hear back, but that wasn’t the point. I did what I felt strongly I wanted / needed to do and that was enough. I wanted to tell someone that they inspired me, that who they were or what they did or wrote mattered, enough to take my time to tell them.

I felt so strongly about this, wanting to avoid regrets, as alluded to in this poem, because of previous experiences when I waited too long. So here is the second poem I sent to Lawrence Ferlinghetti, part of my honoring his passing.

3/25/14

Someone Posted on Facebook

Lawrence Ferlinghetti is 95 today
and I never did send him that poem he inspired
by his inspired reading in Chicago that day
that turned the compass needle sideways and
the streets in the Loop ran in perpendicular directions

no lie
until things settled down out of the long shadows
out back in the sun, back in touch
with the ground and the somewhere blue sky.

I considered sending him the poem
considered writing the back story
even tracked down the San Francisco address
of City Lights Booksellers
but each time I talked myself out of it

intimidated maybe
or not high enough on the crowded list
or waves of life knocking me flat sometimes.
You would think I’d learned after Vonnegut’s death,
and Susannah’s, how the good ideas, the kindnesses
left undone are the things later that haunt you
not every day, but sometimes.

From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine

The poem, “Ferlinghetti Speaks” is in My Ferlinghetti Story, part 1

‹123 4 ›»