Winged shadow

09 Saturday Jul 2016

Posted by in beauty, break out, change, Deliverance, dread, fearlessness, Fire, freedom, listen, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, wonder

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Were I to cull a story,

cut off its wings to still its tongue,

would you be any safer from the past?

The chills walking your spine are not

exiting belief but

sashes and

passages of truth.

Words have no allegiance

once the fire is struck,

and winged shadow escapes, up,

out, beyond-

toward a second

a third

an eleventh

pulsing heart

with ears to hear.

Practice your listening-

what you fear most may be 

the balm of the deep.

Nowhere but onward

25 Saturday Jun 2016

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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

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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

Posted by in beauty, becoming, break out, change, courage, Deliverance, devotion, Expanse, fearlessness, freedom, gratitude, honoring, learning, listen, Love, loving, movement, nature, poems, poetry, the road, vision, work

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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

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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

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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.

chub and one rattle

17 Tuesday May 2016

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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.

Fullness

15 Sunday May 2016

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Were i

to reach for the stars

my pants would fall down.

Today requires earthly attentions.

Keeping up trousers may be 

the ultimate action

while loftier desires

could knock me, particle by particle,

straight out of orbit.

Cupping a star in two small, mortal hands

must wait

until palms can remain steady

holding an infinitude of concentrated light.

Honoring

means discerning–

Here, fantasy. Here, reality.

With that slice we both

possess

the fullness of flourishing space.