Category Archives: honoring

Down the line

12 Sunday Oct 2025

Posted by in Autumn, beauty, Body, departing, distance, grief, honoring, motion, poems, poetry, presence, wind

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An acoustic guitar and a train track beat…

we’re chugging rugged countryside,

rounding bends,

wind streaming through open windows.

I think I’ll watch every dry yellow leaf flutter

and fall,

each flock of grass nod, swish and bow to the sun.

Sometimes grief’s a tar sticking in the lungs

and working to let it go means little

but waiting, waiting becomes the story,

waiting until it decides to let go of you.

The strum will fill your warm heart

as the clack-clack rhythm moves you through time–

be with what is,

it’s got its own magic, which you hold

and holds you,

growing in clarity, in beauty

somewhere on down the line.

A little time

01 Monday Sep 2025

Posted by in approaching, Autumn, endings, fear, history, honoring, human, Immortal, loving, medicine, poems, poetry, rebirth, receiving, release, return, ride, seasons, slow, time, transition, welcoming

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Autumn grips with fast approach,

a fear, a sadness, an ineffective hesitation

in the cooling molasses wrapping us up.

Another anniversary rides toward its destination.

No keeping that horse at bay,

no desire to,

but apprehension sinks–

abide and wait, abide and wait..

with a little time,

it will turn itself inside out and

become a celebration…

Sliver moon pink

21 Thursday Aug 2025

Posted by in approaching, fertile, honoring, light, poems, poetry, prayer, seasons, transition

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Sliver moon pink

in morning’s blooming light.

Baby raccoon sleeps, the Mountain presides.

Chipmunks race by, tails high.

Goldfinches feast on the generosity of sunflowers,

dry and nodding.

Soon, summer’s loud pulsing concert,

the countless crickets singing to Spirit,

will go quiet.

For now, warm nights still meet bare skin

and open windows connect neighbors

in their slumbering sighs

as the length of our days shortens..

Wake up!

02 Saturday Aug 2025

Posted by in freedom, generations, Healing, heart, history, honoring, liberation, Life, medicine, movement, new, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, thanks, transformation, undone, waking, wind, wonder

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Wrestling with the ancestors,

shaking their tree–

Wake up, wake up! You have errors

you must correct.

Generations long damage still revealing itself,

this is not solely on the living.

Clear the way, remove the pall,

obstacles you unwittingly erected,

not the monuments you believed them to be.

Pick up a sledgehammer–

face your mistakes,

smash their marble facades,

crack the foundation,

watch them crumble and let wind blow them away.

Your legacy awaits.

Life needs to bloom.

Get on it!

Reconvene

27 Sunday Jul 2025

Posted by in ancestors, community, connection, history, honoring, listen, movement, poems, poetry, presence

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Who is out there,

ghosts or our imaginings of them?

The spirits in flight, down the chimney,

behind the pizza place, and definitely in the alley bar across the way,

are curious. Mischievous.

Scandalous if they get drunk.

Not sure the woman in the corner

really lost control of her own lifted skirt–

winds, spirits, not so different.

Flowers are to be given, and spirits, yes, for the spirits,

they calm and hold them to the grounds of the unresolved,

no longer drifting, no longer so thirsty,

finally recognized, and in place– for living, for dead,

with earth in the holy middle,

to reconvene.

Brethren

09 Wednesday Jul 2025

Posted by in honoring, light, nature, poems, poetry, seasons, Summer

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As one sunflower reaches beyond the rooftop

and another suddenly aims straight northward,

enormous striped grasshoppers,

along with their small neon green brethren,

bounce every which way,

skitter piles of dry elm seedpods and creep,

sticky-like, slow, elegant and silent,

up the window frame.

They’ve been kind enough to punch countless holes

in the hollyhock leaves–

seems the Sun asked for more contact with the ground.

Kind of them to oblige…

This.

12 Wednesday Mar 2025

Posted by in devotion, honoring, Infinite, laughter, learning, leaving, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, welcoming, wonder

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Time is a not-knowing.

Life flow.

Infinite creative arising;

Step in

to where you can’t not be.

Awareness will return you there.

Here we are, within continent-birthing

and crumbling upheaval–

crashing edges, sudden limits, tighter twists,

unleashings,

every corner a blind turn.

So where do we go?

No place but here. This moment.

And when the lead line of anxiety

rockets out past our knowing,

we nod kindly, gather it home–

to breath, scent, pulse, wind, ground–

gently pulling back our reach,

that which takes us out past ourselves,

tipping us

away

from what is true.

Be loyal to this,

this,

this.

It is All.

Holy rage

14 Thursday Nov 2024

Posted by in community, Creating, daughter, digging, dissolution, Elements, fearlessness, Fire, generations, history, honoring, human, instinct, Love, mother, movement, Opening, pain, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, rage, strength, violence, woman, work

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I see her, red hair aflame,

paint flying.

Swaths of blackest black,

gashes of scarlet–

blood, bone, ash, scorch,

ochre of marrow.

Enough words, make image.

Shock the system with truth,

Pandora’s box wide,

coffins nesting

and thrown open, skulls screaming out,

souls of generation upon generation of women:

This will not stand.

This will not stand.

No!

The riotous wind

12 Monday Aug 2024

Posted by in freedom, friends, growing, Healing, heart, honoring, human, learning, Love, movement, naked, Opening, poems, poetry, prayer

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Driving along

and a sudden elevator drop in my chest.

Riding that familiar riversong of sadness a moment,

I understand–ah–

my old, precious friend

is holding a conversation I’ve heard countless times.

Now I can recognize her disguise.

Funny mask, dear one,

but a confusion belies those heavy, tearful eyes.

Stress, strain, the much too muchness of things

brings you here.

Rest, love.

Hide in your cubby hole and come out

whenever you would like to sniff

the riotous wind again.

These are the last days

27 Saturday May 2023

Posted by in abundance, approaching, change, history, honoring, movement, poems, poetry, transition, violence

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These are the last days

of watching the valley open slowly

her soft green eyes,

of waiting for jackrabbit to come for breakfast,

of the coyote pack ushering in each full moon

with choral rhapsodies,

of tarantula pilgrims crossing the sagebrush mesa.

These are the last days of grit and clay dust flying

through any open window,

last of the sheriffs far more dangerous than the criminals,

of dried chiles and turquoise sky

against pink hills,

of churches holding centuries of prayer deep

in adobe walls,

of a boiling pot of cultural conflict

passed generation to generation to generation

onward making anyone arriving

within their own lifetime

a tourist.

Listen to the wildflowers and thunder, though,

and it becomes obvious–

they don’t care about endless strife.

They celebrate life and sing upward to our supportive sun.

These are the last days preceeding

the very first…