Tree stories…
Got a story to contribute? Join us~
09 Saturday Jul 2016
Category Archives: nature
Nowhere but onward
25 Saturday Jun 2016
I have searched, reached,
spoken, cried, and delivered.
My arms have ached in fullness, emptiness
and longing,
my legs have quaked miles into the journey
with nowhere but onward
left to go.
Muscle blood bone
register waking
like petals opening toward light.
What I now carry will remain behind
in this daily offering
of God
back to God.
Take the risk
21 Tuesday Jun 2016
A black and white world
hasn’t any lines to blur-
what relief to fearful minds.
And if a smudge
tangoes with reason,
snapping the bra straps of rationality?
Waters might move in,
fill bleached arroyos,
and offer liquid to dry, cracked,
sorrowful lands.
Take the risk.
Invite chaos to play.
I am a shooter
18 Saturday Jun 2016
I am a shooter.
In all the ways I hate myself, in all the ways I hate others,
in any destruction of life in which I partake,
in my cruelties and holding on to misunderstandings,
in any willful resistance to seeing difference as beautiful,
in my own brokenness, impatience, refusal to love,
I, too, am a shooter.
And how
may
my life-
this singular life-
be a devotion toward loving and mutual living
on this planet,
the one inhabitable wondrous place
we all share
and call home?
Born into violence and out of grace,
how may my breath move
from the one toward
the other…
With each day
I ask,
in the face of violence,
for grace.
Golden bridge
14 Tuesday Jun 2016
If dreams rise
of planting marigolds in snow,
yet the spiders that plague you still
have not yielded
understanding,
can we love each other in our differences?
While you wrestle with your ghosts,
and I with mine,
is there a golden bridge between us
where
the songs we sing,
the tears filling our eyes,
the breath aching our lungs,
the laughter erupting before placid waters
may join?
We mustn’t forget
how many languages we share
even without knowing
any of the words.
This body is my drum
06 Monday Jun 2016
This body is my drum
beating
inside out
into the world.
If your ears sense the beat
we both may
smile.
If your heart does,
we surely will.
Pulse rhythm cracked a shell
holding me back
from the raw thwack and rocketing yes
of unrepeatable
moments.
Hiding, shrinking, running dulls
music
all of us are here to create,
together..
Pick up your drum.
Let’s dance ~
chub and one rattle
17 Tuesday May 2016
Young rattlesnake,
short chub and one rattle,
this day is dedicated to you.
Afternoon sun warms bare legs,
ferns stretch rootlets in wet shade,
cat licks paw pads,
and this heart pulses to new limits
of loving.
Every shedding of the skin adds
another rattle,
and a greater knowing
that less venom
is more.
One day, she runs.
07 Saturday May 2016
In the dark unfolding familiar
and friendless place
where place began,
a necessary and
deceptive
seed was planted.
Nourishing form, forgetting spirit,
growing grew and suckers spread.
A viral overload threatened.
Silently
soil
fed
resistance.
Until…
One day,
she runs.
From sick enclosure out into night,
thinly covered,
taking nothing, no shoes,
she bolts in a snap of a now! beyond
hallways, doors, gates,
with pounding heart, searchlight eyes, flying hair,
bare feet slapping pavement,
escaping by back ways known
intimately as the corners of her old room.
Rushing behind houses, through hedges,
ducking limbs, all chance of observance
and grabbing dominion.
Outside the limits,
with no objects to keep her,
by her own deliverance
she finds
her true way Home.
A whole lot more of forever
02 Monday May 2016
Sometimes I must contain rivers
greater than my banks
and
I wonder,
just what it would be like to be you.
Limbs moving so,
thought dangling here and here,
and a curl,
tongue licking there
and eye gazing upon scenes
I could never see exactly
the same way.
Within these banks I capture moon
lighting the way
but in the flood
life flows too fast
and grand
for understanding to catch me.
Yet it does,
eventually,
it always does.
Recount to me what it’s like being you
and perhaps
both our banks will expand to hold
a whole lot more of forever.
I bow
21 Thursday Apr 2016
Molting is awkward.
Ugly.
And completely amazing.
When stumbling in awkwardness, I am being asked to understand.
I bow to the learning.
When hiding from my own ugliness, I am being called to love what has been unacceptable.
I bow to Beauty by deepening her definition.
As feathers drop, the wind takes them.
In this lightness,
change.
In this change,
potency.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 