14 Thursday Nov 2024
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!
28 Tuesday Feb 2023
How do we tender the fire,
walk the line,
embody a waking spectrum of both
the violence within–that murderous rage–
and the sacred Spirit we carry?
How do we live between
the harm we are capable of and
the goodness of our natural being?
Until each of us faces that living death,
cashes in the chips of our denial,
we humans will continue to destroy one another,
our earthen home,
and ourselves.
Let’s rise to the task.
We have, perhaps, no better work to do.
24 Tuesday Nov 2020
Grief stagnates
into rage.
Allow her to move;
Plant a stone,
Bury a broken song,
Sing another to a place on this earth dry
with sorrow.
Open to the endings,
without them nothing begins.
Unimaginable are the possibilities
for they
have yet to meet their own conception.
Offer the moistening river
your enormous grief.
Follow its movements,
dances are born in the currents.
Much has been taken,
now much can be given back;
Return grief to the Beauty–
tender Life may run again toward you.
Allow her to move.
Life is saying,
she needs her juice back
through the body of you.
11 Wednesday Nov 2020
What if you woke up each day pissed off.
Pissed off that you’re still here, that things are the way they are,
feeling impotent to change any of it,
that, somehow, crucial basic needs have not been accounted for
in the constellation of whoever is responsible.
What an enduring and repetitive hell.
And instead of beating yourself for–yet another–failing
you settle in
to an endless buzz of unspoken confusion
to wonder,
where could such constant pain come from?
And what, truly, is the soil to tree relationship
between rage and gratitude?
Don’t kid yourself,
those roots do tangle together
and grow in ways
so large and unarticulated you haven’t yet
begun
to trust the imagination entrusted to you
to welcome the discomfort of the discovery
Life is asking.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 