Category Archives: change

Go forth

19 Wednesday Apr 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, Body, change, Love, lovers, loving, Music, poems, poetry, wonder

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Did you ever fall in love for the first time?

If not, I can tell you-

you’ll be changed.

The wind will be his kiss when he’s not

by your side,

colors will reach out with incredible loving hands,

the sweetness of a peach will impassion

every last one of your taste buds,

and music will have been composed, amazingly,

just for you..

Yes,

yes, that and more.

But that’s not what will change you-

not quite.

What will, however, rearrange your particles

after both the elation and inevitable suffering rip through,

what will wrap you up, enrapture your heart,

sing you to sleep, and bring you to greet each rising sun

with gratitude,

is a knowledge taught by your own body

that another’s adoration is not only not necessary

but that it was you who had to fall in love with you

all along.

But I don’t mean to ruin the game-

go forth

and fall.

A fence-crashing

27 Monday Mar 2017

Posted by in abundance, aging, becoming, break out, change, learning, Loss, movement, poems, poetry, transition

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Having never felt this old,

nor so young and inept

– and simultaneously –

well, 

there’s a fence-crashing, a home-burning, 

a finding-one’s-own-nose-on-someone-else kind of mess.

What is to be done with a tension like that?

Bear it.

Stretch with it.

Let be torn loose the decayed, the ineffectual, 

follow the twisting into the twist,

watch new movements be born.

I guess.

Still, if I’m a living version of a mr. potato head,

could I waddle in those shoes a ways?

It might do me some good.

Spring

08 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, break out, change, honoring, movement, nature, poems, poetry, vision, weaving, wonder, work

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Grass,

green, high, lilting..

Spring wears her tall rubber boots 

and wanders through

from seedling to start, from birdsong to unfurling fiddlehead.

Crossing slopes slowly,

around and up,

She eventually meets their tops

having tapped every waking wildflower

with a wink and a sweet how-do-you-do.

Her hair trails behind her in post-storm breeze.

With a softened gaze, you’ll catch a snippet of calico print dress

somehow waving

from a corner of your own sunny imagination.

Transition

15 Wednesday Feb 2017

Posted by in adventure, becoming, break out, change, discomfort, freedom, learning, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, transition

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Movement

like rolling earth

after tectonic plates shudder-

It’s tough keeping your feet without

loosening up,

first,

and

laughing,

second.

Because when else can you ride

for free

anywhere you are,

with the benefit of losing

what you swore kept you alive but

only

brought you

down?

Go ahead,

remember the sound

of your own giggling insides and

jiggle a little~

Spirited fires light

31 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by in becoming, change, courage, dark, devotion, Fire, honoring, light, loving, movement, poems, poetry, strength, work

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Eyes heavy from reading news,

a seemingly apocalyptic caravan of events

and, yet, spirited fires light here, there, and there-

in me, in you, over the next hill where soft glow flickers.

Hours on the phone, speaking up, speaking out, thanking,

and yet another heart lifts during great challenge.

Tend to that fire consistently,

have water always near to temper and moisten,

eat of earthen foods to slow, slow

into the long journey ahead.

All are precious in this global transformation,

take another’s hand in yours in pure reminder.

The women speak

21 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, change, Creating, Expanse, listen, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, vision, weaving

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The women speak

and dogs lay down side by side,

cats walking railings sit in spots full of sun,

the cursed dust no longer cursed 

becomes, finally, nutrient moving

from here to there.

(Trees nod slowly in recognition.)

The women speak

and silence begins again to be known-

an expansion from where

the most needed, sassy ideas rise.

The women speak,

and our planet shakes off a yoke

we think we’ve set around Her neck.

The women speak,

hummm, yes, listen.

A silence

20 Friday Jan 2017

Posted by in becoming, break out, change, listen, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, strength, the road, transition, work

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A silence is being called.

Not

a silence of submission, or

apathy,

shame or forgetfulness– but

an emboldened silence,

one for hearing voices drifting

through cracks

and memory.

Listen.

Dear God, Listen-

a new way demands a creativity

well outside the bounds of what has come before.

This silence is gentle, receptive,

immensely strong.

Recall, from the depths,

how it is yours, ours, and

not.

Bones speak, be certain

they are included.

Kick the temple bell

16 Monday Jan 2017

Posted by in adventure, becoming, break out, change, courage, Expanse, Infinite, learning, listen, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, Run, the road

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Shy at the gate,

toss your head, flip your tail, 

switch ears, twitch nostrils-

a fine tension builds,

keep with it.

Shimmy your skin and whinny, yes,

a whoa-what’s-happening kind of alarm.

Stay with it.

That gate’s got words for you,

and not of a sort your brain’s going to comprehend.

They have teeth, and dirt, and a strange wind to them,

which may be the reason for the fleeting,

repeating

blood chills, maybe.

Rushing to run misses the opportunity.

Kick the temple bell with an eager hoof if you have to

but know

this place between,

at the gate before god knows what and you,

holds the field of promise.

Hang in, possibility calls you far,

far from the familiar.

Stitching time

01 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by in change, learning, loving, movement, poems, poetry, release

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Stitching time with you

brought me to the end of a thread,

one unkowingly finite.

Pushing my hand through air toward

your warm forehead, lightly damp

beneath a short cascade of brown hair,

mixed salt sour scent, barely perceptible 

and more familiar than any other’s,

in a last inhale holding no more frustration

with the snap of that thread

and a long, tangled, eventually satisfying,

wordless goodbye.