Category Archives: dark

What might peace look like?

15 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by in change, dark, fearlessness, freedom, gratitude, honoring, listen, peace, poems, poetry, wonder, work

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With blood running
in all our veins,
couldn’t we wonder instead
what we have in common?
We look to the skin, to the beliefs,
to what keeps us apart,
yet
hearts still entrain,
breathing seeks outer rhythms,
laughter lights eyes like the moon above..
Birth, death,
we share the same doorways
for a brief span here
together
on Earth.
What might peace look like
if we search
for what connects us
in the web of creation?
Our time is short,
the effects of war long.
Could we meet on a dark street
unafraid
and mutually glad for the passing
of a stranger?

For the women in those photographs 

12 Monday Oct 2015

Posted by in becoming, dark, death, devotion, dreams, family, freedom, movement, naked, night, poems, poetry, release, work

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For the shes,

for the women who held in reserve everything but

what they betrayed in the fathoms of their eyes,

I dance for you,

let my laid-down hair fly

and skin sweat rivers

underarm and between thigh.

My laugh is the wild thing you withheld 

and the leap it was never safe

for you to take.

The salt this body gives up,

one gift I can give.

Carry me to where your bones rest,

I’ll bring the skull I’ve been handed

when calling guides from the directions.

You’ve yet to reach my dreams

but when you do

I know

your unpinned hair will be the least

of what you bring to night sleep.

Turning the corner

18 Friday Sep 2015

Posted by in becoming, courage, dark, death, discomfort, Inspire, joy, learning, movement, poems, poetry, transition

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Turning the corner,

two winds blow.

The old blasts my back,

picking up tacks and sharp-edged photographs 

along its path.

Those shes are afraid to let me go. 

Losing habits,

the groove-cut ways,

riles folks.

The wind in my face,

cold, fresh,

hasn’t yet warmed with the bodies of the unmet,

invites like a new swimming channel

whose water is clear, dark,

hugging smooth stone,

knowing well the course and direction

in which it takes me.

Turning the corner

dances my hair on end,

and has me falling forward

into invisible arms I must trust

to catch me.

A painting of night

12 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, dark, death, devotion, family, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, receiving, release, vision, wonder, work

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While hands rest on sink edge
and skin drips above dirty bowls,
eyes see wall and window and trees in view
of an idea
who drops in,
pulls as much space
as a full day gathers snow,
and says,

Your wound is their wound is a wound
far-reaching with cold, gnarled underground fingers.
Hold the hand you fear,
befriend the dead. 
Bring here of the gifts
your people await release.
Possess the expanse
and embody the unspoken…

Hearing the music of you
in a flooding of my entirety,
more life rises in death
than even a painting of night
could dream.

Underworld

11 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by in becoming, dark, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, transition

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Tumbling into

an underworld.

Sound stolen in the descent,

movement coming from

an unknown what.

Vanished light and a search yet begun.

A wisp of swirling wind.

Inhabiting a different body,

a novice of winged creation must

forget the familiar. 

Hanging topside down from leafless tree

amid dark layered upon dark,

sonar registers obstacles and surfaces

of a territory

summoning,

expecting

arrival and exploration.

Travel here is not optional.

Curling claws around smooth limb,

with wings wrapped securely,

head dangling,

blood circulating,

there can be a reaching

for nothing.

Required senses develop.

Survival.

Still, suspended, and waiting

in dangerous territory

while skills emerge.

Quieting impulse,

lets

a silenced knowing 

arise

for one newly born.

Possession 

09 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by in beauty, becoming, dark, learning, night, poems, poetry, Sight

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Enter the woods, Young Woman,

and know

the Devil hears every footstep.
Each snapping twig signals 
your approaching Light-
and stirs

His bloodthirst.
Whether your flame flickers,
or extinguishes,
He cares not.
This game is
Possession.
And without your eyes open,
you are prey.
The seduction will dance you
until your feet bleed,
and your heart tears.
But
with instinct, wild watchfulness,
and a night-march gathering
of your oceanic value,
his charm cannot destroy
the most tender and loving aspects
your clear spirit offers this woolly world.
Stake your boundary
and protect
what you long to give away.
Leave the woods.
Trade, dear Beauty,
youthful innocence,
that dwelling ignorance,
for the Power that awaits you-
something His nearness would never
allow you the sovereignty

to have.