Category Archives: strength

One day, she runs.

07 Saturday May 2016

Posted by in adventure, beauty, becoming, courage, dark, death, Deliverance, devotion, Expanse, family, fearlessness, freedom, Infinite, joy, Love, loving, movement, mystery, naked, nature, night, poems, poetry, Run, strength, the road, transition

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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.

Sacrifice the god of nice

29 Friday Apr 2016

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A watermelon, round.

A sword,

heavy-hilted, ornate, decisive.

Raise the blade,

two-handed,

and drop sharp steel through rind,

flesh,

rind;

Sacrifice the god of nice.

Free her from the bondage

of acceptable mediocrity.

Spill seed,

honor sweet juice.

Initiate of destruction-

break open the tidy container

or

she will rot,

denied of her original gift.

This inborn generosity 

invites feast.

Fill your belly.

I bow

21 Thursday Apr 2016

Posted by in beauty, becoming, change, honoring, learning, loving, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, strength, the road

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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.

So it begins

03 Sunday Apr 2016

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So it begins

with

but They but They

and the story pretzels and snarls

morphs into a thorny thicket

of

Yes but.

So it begins.

Reaching in with pruners and magnifying glass,

a madness of 

I will get clear!

muscles work, tire,

eyes pierce, squint, wrinkle-

strength and a certain Sight grow.

One silent morning arrives

with a way through,

not simply a way through,

a path clear- as intended-

and They

are long gone.

Suddenly, dust still in suspension,

the same pain jolts its head through packed earth

and there’s no

But They

anymore.

Only you.

And so it begins…

The grain mill

27 Sunday Mar 2016

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Stretches

(or pockets,

or loop-de-loops)

of time

(meaningless time)

in transition

with sensations of being ground

in the grain mill,

where would we be without them?

In a blistering wind

anger rises and hands us the energy

to do away 

with a trail of uselessness hitching

to our backsides.

(Why were we dragging that marriage/house/walrus again?)

Without halting in mad winds

who jostle our brains and

send hairs flying

we’d not have noticed the 872 pounds

of shit

attached to our spines

which

we can now let go of.

Hallelujah for stopping

to strike the match of compassionate flame

and throwing it on

a tinderbox of ancient nonsense.

Your next offering

24 Thursday Mar 2016

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When things fall apart,

rest.

Pieces

litter the floor,

and probably your heart.

Let them.

A new equilibrium

finds itself

in the passing of light into dark

and back again.

Art gives time

another meaning.

The brokennesses-

curious remnants of another life-

are nothing.

Simply raw material

for the most exquisite

mosaic

and

your next offering

of soul.

Searing darkness

17 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by in abundance, dark, discomfort, listen, loving, movement, night, poems, poetry, Sight, strength, transition

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How searing the Darkness.

Sights, dismissed, rise

through earthquaking uplift,

making smaller even

the microstrains of normalcy.

Withholding time from the forgotten,

the never known,

ends

when what had been thrown aside speaks,

“I am you.”

Thank the breath still given and

every fiber of your being

for the strength

to bring the orphaned and hated and dispossessed

close enough

to see the pain in their eyes,

and to assemble what Light

does soothe.

Each day

29 Sunday Nov 2015

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The rock,
the dense coldness you carry, can’t put down,
shift endlessly hoping
for a more comfortable position-
that stone you think is solely yours
as it mopes and drags and cautions and weighs and snivels,
all while closeting the real pain?
Think it belongs to you?
Turn your head,
look back down the line.
Greet your inheritance.
It is simply your time.
Now, begin the work-
call forth the generations of people
whose blood you share, and
who’ve given you each celestial day
to awaken again.

Ask them to tea

19 Thursday Nov 2015

Posted by in abundance, becoming, change, courage, dark, devotion, discomfort, dread, freedom, gratitude, honoring, learning, listen, movement, pain, poems, poetry, release, strength, wonder

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Shame is a dark and sticky thing.

A hole we never see.

A bottomless, unnameable void.

It snatches us in the unlit alleys of our minds.

Ghastly,

what it thinks it can make us do-

shrink ourselves to the smallest brittleness

of an undesirable,

worthless,

lifeless

outcast

who cannot get anything right.

Immense power we give to one with no hands,

no face,

not even a nose.

And, how lucky we are

to have the nerve

to turn and look,

to sniff,

to get to know

the lurking bogeymen, the paralyzing Medusas,

behind the fence

and around the bend.

Come, come-

Let us ask them to tea

to learn what it is

they really want.