Category Archives: poems

New growth

16 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by in becoming, break out, change, dark, Deliverance, devotion, Loss, nature, pain, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength, wonder

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After wildfire,
in the enclosing wood
where bend of bough, like tuck of wound, 
cradles loss in darkness- 
please, 
time.
Time to pause, to sense,
for paws and scents to know
of safety’s approach.
For repair,
beneath dust-breath layer after dust-breath layer 
of grey white ash, does come:
New growth.
Pain, when given its due,
becomes not enemy
but ally and
its own necessary offering. 

 

Any other

30 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, becoming, break out, change, Creating, Deliverance, devotion, discomfort, freedom, learning, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, story, strength, the road, transition, work

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A rock stands in your path.
A big one.
It’s the same damned rock you’ve walked smack into countless times,
decade after decade,
despite the changing terrain.
You walk the mapless territory, silently, wondering… how on earth?
Do you go around?
Climb over?
Finally hammer the blasted thing to pieces?
Your choice, always.
Fun part is-
this time
your decision may be unlike
any other.

Its nature

22 Thursday Sep 2016

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Being an untamed tributary

of a river whose origin reaches far 

into depths unkown

brings twists of bramble,

leaping fish,

frog and cricket symphonies,

bats dipping low in twilight-

when settling into quiet lulls.

In rugged young churning-

escaping water

pulls earth, boulder, tree to itself

as passion builds with heavy rains,

filling banks,

carving hungry routes,

chewing civilized lands and

renewing plots left withering.

This tributary is this and more,

trading nothing away

in honor of its nature–

wild, strong and unpossessing.

The ride

09 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, change, courage, fearlessness, freedom, joy, learning, movement, poems, poetry, release, the road

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know those times
when there’s nothing to hold on to?

but the brain tries,

oh boy does it try-
it clings to the past, to the future, to what is wanted, to what is feared, to what has been or may be lost,

to what ifs and oh shits and 

waaaaait what just happened?

that’s when it’s clear:

throw up both hands 

– high into the air –

the ride 

has already begun

Don’t hold on

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, change, crafting, devotion, discomfort, Fire, freedom, Loss, Love, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength

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Being sculpted

means

being thrown,

as clay,

first kneaded- no bubbles – then

spun

well beyond dizzy,

cut,

and fired to degrees

scorching

even by shuddering imagination

if 

your aim is to be a

cup,

vase,

bowl,

holy space ripe

for filling, 

able to offer solace, pleasure,

delight,

beauty, compassion,

ease,

and round reflections of sky.

Don’t hold on.

Be here.

In the dark

24 Wednesday Aug 2016

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This cracked and dusty pain rested 

in a distant corner 

season upon season-

never gone,

napping at most-

waiting

for a fresh split

to draw bright blood.

Not to be resolved, or

fixed,

but lived

in

through

with

beyond.

Yet again, it is not mine

alone.

I live it for you, as

you for me.

A new light breaks

in the dark.

If I lay down

23 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by in break out, change, honoring, Infinite, listen, loving, movement, Music, nature, poems, poetry, release

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I can’t speak to you from here.

From here where I don’t listen.

But if I stop

circling and

running and

dodging

and

reaching.. 

If I lay down armaments

and armour

both weighing, separating,

isolating

me 

from

me 

and

me from you.. If

I lay myself down

upon your buried curving roots,

this bodily circulation

will remember

a tree-based rhythm,

an earthly pulse.

Without effort

the music changes.

And if?

13 Saturday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, beauty, break out, change, devotion, honoring, listen, Love, nature, poems, poetry, presence, Sight, transition, weaving, wonder, work

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And if the stars are talking to you

through closed sash and latched window?

And if the tree sway would catch you in a dance

were you only to step outside at dawn?

And if the thick green pond might turn blue

if you’d catch its eye while passing by?

And if the coyote call one ridge away

could reach your naked aching ear 

were technology not wedged tight,

filling the cracks where nature could get in?

And if the ducks recently born,

hiding beneath the bowering bracken

edging the water

could gather your attention as you do theirs,

would this love affair ripen

and our wild and sacred

no longer be made into amusement parks?

There is a begging for fidelity here-

make this wild love affair true.

It is our one way through.