Category Archives: receiving

Not exactly

17 Saturday Dec 2016

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It wasn’t through torn paper

blackened shoelace

or scuffed wall 

that I found You.

It wasn’t the constant push

circulating fear

or I-must-do-betters..

not even the inch between 

the sidewalk and me

plus a bruised knee.

Not exactly.

Add the non-starts,

regimented dreams,

what’s-wrong-with-me’s,

attempts to fit when fitting fed starvation,

and the broken heart- birthday after birthday-

with one shattering

nearly beyond recovery

that, finally,

I found You.

The joke being

that I’ve carried You in me

since before the first sunrise.

Except now,

when I say hello

I can hear You answer.

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. 

 

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.

Don’t hold on

28 Sunday Aug 2016

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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.

Golden bridge

14 Tuesday Jun 2016

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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

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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 ~

Come,

29 Sunday May 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, change, discomfort, Expanse, Infinite, joy, learning, movement, poems, poetry, receiving, release, the road, wonder

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Come,

Enjoy this life while you have it.

Twisting guts or sunshine?

Nah, nah, twisting guts 

and

sunshine,

the buried wriggle of new root,

a softening of shoulder and corner of lip,

a nagging thought, tremble of choice,

and a search for more.

More of this, of this!

The life pulling at your heavy heel 

and

lifted brow in pure amusement.

Drop the weight-

it may not even be yours.

Direct that tender face

toward the sun-

allow light to bathe eyelash upon eyelash.

Bountiful plenty turns colors before you.

Bountiful plenty turns within you.

Come,

Enjoy this life

while you have it.

A whole lot more of forever

02 Monday May 2016

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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.