Category Archives: Poetry

When Stillness Emerges


Flame 6 copy 2

When stillness emerges
A universe opens
The inward gaze becomes witness
To an ocean of movement
Pulsating, vibrating
Enticing the soul to plunge in,
And surrender to its depth and beauty.

The Buddha turns his gaze inward,
Jesus cries Abba,
Rumi dances in spirals of ecstatic LOVE,
And poets everywhere
Become the prisoners of boundless Adoration.

Where does loneliness dwell when there is solitude?
What power of LOVE ignites the blaze in darkness?
What does a flame dancing in stillness reveal?

Slowly the mystery unravels,
Each time revealing just another enticing foretaste,
Of a horizon bursting with boundless layers of light within.
Each time pulling us into the deepest LOVE,
Each time tugging us into irresistible LOVE,
Each time revealing that there is only LOVE.

©Wilfredo Benitez
May 16, 2016

Cada Día Que Pasa


Crowded Isolation copy

Cada dia que pasa
Veo el milagro de Dios en todo;
Y cada día que vivo,
Quedo desconcertado
No entendiendo el por qué,
Al caminar por un milagro,
Los que me rodean
Marchan en absoluta ceguera del milagro.

Me rodea un torbellino de prisa,
Un corre corre ansioso sin rumbo
Masas de carne y hueso,
Que se mueven de un lugar al otro
Sin destino, sin rumbo, sin vida;
Sus pasos camino a la sobrevivencia que ahoga;
¿Por qué?

En medio de todo
Percibo la sublime soberanía
Situada en todo;
Diviso la danza de cada átomo
Nutrido por el milagro que nos rodea.

¿Por qué rehúsan doblar la rodilla
Y rendir honor y reverencia?
¿Por qué insisten,
En comer del árbol prohibido,
Y quedar esclavos del dolor y el sufrimiento?
¿Qué locura es esta?

Cada día que pasa
Veo el milagro de Dios en todo,
Y mi ser desmaya.
¿Hasta cuando Dios mío?
¿Hasta cuando la locura,
De vivir en el mundo
De los ciegos a tu belleza?

Wilfredo Benítez
24 de Mayo, 2016

Little Angels Dance in Your Heart


Angeles Bailan copy

There is a dance of little angels
That hear the song of God
And they’ve discovered a grand space
In the beating heart.

There in that place,
In-between the eternal spaces of every beat,
They make their dance,
In exaltation of the Most High.

The currents that run through that place
Carry the Breeze of God
That we call Spirit…

Holy Spirit
Breath of Life
The name of God
Yah… …weh!

With every inhalation
The dance continues;
With every exhalation
The dance expands,
And the streams of Love
Disperse and travel
Through the entire body of a mortal soul,
And the earthly touches the infinite.

O mortal friend,
Do you not
hear the song of God between the heart beats?
Can you not sense the feet of little angels in their dance,
There in the infinite spaces of your heart?

O mortal friend,
Didn’t you know that there in your heart,
Can be found the salons
Where little angels congregate?
There is a great feast of adoration,
With every beat of the heart,
O friend
How long will you remain outside?

©Wilfredo Benitez
Feast Day of Saint Mark the Evangelist
April 25th, 2016

Hay Una Danza de Angelitos


Angeles Bailan copy

Hay una danza de angelitos
Que escuchan la canción de Dios
Y han descubierto un gran espacio
En el corazón que late.

Ahí en ese lugar
Entre los espacios eternos de cada latir,
Hacen su danza
En alabanza al Altísimo.

Las corrientes que pasan por ese lugar
Cargan el Viento de Dios
Que llamamos Espíritu…

Espiritu Santo
El soplo de Vida
El Nombre de Dios
Yah… …veh!

Con cada inhalación
La danza continua;
Con cada exhalación
La danza se expande,
Y las corrientes de Amor
Se dispersan y viajan
Por todo el cuerpo de un ser mortal,
Y lo terrenal toca lo infinito.

O amigo mortal,
¿Escuchas la canción de Dios entre los latidos?
¿Sientes los piecitos de los ángelitos en su danza,
Ahí en los espacios sempiternos de tu corazón?

O amiga mortal,
¿No sabias que ahí en tu corazón
Se encuentran los salones
En donde se congregan los angelitos?

Hay una gran fiesta de alabanza,
Con cada latir del corazón,
O amigo, O amiga,
¿Hasta cuando te quedaras afuera?

©Wilfredo Benitez
25 de Abril
Día de San Marcos el Evangelista

What Draws My Eye?


Tree Tops 1 copy

What draws my eye?
When I look through a dark tunnel,
And fixate my gaze on the light at the end;
When I look above trees dormant in the Winter,
And I feel the cold emptiness of the chill on my neck?

What is my eye doing,
When it sees Light and Darkness all at once?
What draws my eye,
When the numinous makes its presence?
Is there total darkness when I can still see the light?
Is there total desolation when the element of grace is present?

Dark tree branches reach for the light
Casting shadows below,
And there I stand.
Darkness encircles me,
In the midst of the light.

What draws my eye?
Is it the inner impulse always seeking to unravel the mystery?
Is it the inner yearning to know, and see beyond the veil?

I point the camera and release the shutter,
The impulse to shoot is there,
It is no longer a conscious impulse,
The eye has seen something beyond seeing.

What draws my eye?
It is the never-ending quest to know…

©Wilfredo Benitez
January 7th, 2016

There in the Mist


L1000145 copy

There in the mist is hidden the deepest of mysteries,
So why deceive ourselves into thinking we see the whole picture?

An apostle once wrote: “For now we see through a glass dimly,”
And my lens is that glass wanting to penetrate the mystery!

Mysteries of mysteries, all of life is a mystery;
Things are hidden from sight,
But when you see beyond seeing,
There in the mist is a truth that penetrates the heart.

It is stillness, in slow gentle movement,
It beckons me to look ever so deeply,
And alas,
There in the mist, is a universe unfolding,
Shadows and light converge,
Moving beyond light and darkness,
One begins to see with the eye of the heart.

It remains an impenetrable mystery,
It humbles and teases my pursuit,
It avows my mortality,
And yet it beckons me,
Calling me, seducing me, it never lets me go!

There in the mist is hidden the deepest of mysteries,
I continue to look, and wait,
Wait until alas I will see “face to face” and know
Who it was, and what it was that beckoned me.

What will be of my mortal self when the mystery is no more?
What will be of my mortal soul,
When I cast away the dim glass,
And see with clarity for the very first time?

I feel as if I will burst into a zillion infinite particles,
Reaching the outermost confines
Of what was once an impenetrable mystery.

©Wilfredo Benitez



Artemia BNcopy

Artemia BN BWcopy

A mother loses her son to the Revolution,
The air in the Sierra Maestra
Has the fragrance of a Martyrs blood.

Gun shots fade,
There is victory in the air,
But for Tia Artemia,
The longing for Rodolfo never fades,
The longing never ends…

Death gives birth to a martyr,
The people cry victoria!
But a river of silent tears,
Flows beneath the surface of her skin.
Deep within the heart of Tia Artemia,
Tears mingle with a martyr’s blood.

She is like Mary, the mother of Jesus,
Weeping before the cross,
Her son killed by forces loyal to an empire of corruption.
And then the hardships follow,
A blockade imposed against a people struggling for an equitable society.

Tia Artemia never wavers.
In venerable form she carries her pain,
Well over five decades,
Serving the revolution Rodolfo sacrificed his life for.
She is firm in her conviction,
Denouncing an embargo
Fueled by the very forces of darkness that killed her son.

Bloqueo No! Bloqueo No!
A compassionate soul stands firm,
Bloque No! Bloqueo No!

©Wilfredo Benitez
August 4th , 2015

Dedicated to the memory of my aunt Artemia who lived to the age of 100,
in Contramaestre, Cuba