A painting of night

12 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, dark, death, devotion, family, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, receiving, release, vision, wonder, work

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While hands rest on sink edge
and skin drips above dirty bowls,
eyes see wall and window and trees in view
of an idea
who drops in,
pulls as much space
as a full day gathers snow,
and says,

Your wound is their wound is a wound
far-reaching with cold, gnarled underground fingers.
Hold the hand you fear,
befriend the dead. 
Bring here of the gifts
your people await release.
Possess the expanse
and embody the unspoken…

Hearing the music of you
in a flooding of my entirety,
more life rises in death
than even a painting of night
could dream.

Woven

06 Sunday Sep 2015

Posted by in abundance, beauty, family, movement, nature, poems, poetry

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Nocturnal orb weaver
has tucked herself away,,

Vulture, high in dead pine,

splays tail, fans wings wide, 

back to rising sun.

Soft voice and pedal steel round the room

while Crow wanders the rail,

head cocked, assessing what’s new.

Birdtalk through treetops-

woven richness of life

finding life.

Until then

05 Saturday Sep 2015

Posted by in abundance, beauty, becoming, freedom, lovers, poems, poetry, the road

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Mistaking him for It

or she for It

or it for It

Well that’s when everything-

cries of passion, clods of pain, and the ever-living all-

circles the drain and

without the swirl and presence 

of boundless Love,

you are ensnared

because nobody,

no matter the who,

or the what,

can ever

step in for Spirit

as He/She/It will always find you

in the end-

and why on earth

wait

until then?

Blueberries in peace

23 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by in About, movement, nature, poems, poetry

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Wanting to eat blueberries in peace,

I continue walking.

“Welcome to the Labyrinth.”

As if I needed the sign.

Parking bum on stone

among alyssum, chamomile and

orange blooms of nasturtium,

bees waft in and buzz by.

Sun warms back, verbena wavers,

dragonfly hovers a while.

Between lavender and me

a garden’s worth of world greens up

in the closing weeks of summer.

Holding body

23 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by in death, nature, poems, poetry, transition

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Holding body 

of dead hawk still warm,

the day’s tedium and irritation forgotten.

Death throws light, as life offers life.

Carrying bustle to calm

one of feather, talon, beak and bone,

expired oak reaches out arms.

Here, by trunk split to earth-

as if through lightning visitation-

raptor rests to place

without roadway and hustle,

whole in transition.

Scavengers will find their next meal,

minerals will return to dust.

Envisioned flight prepares to come again.

Body speaks loud

13 Thursday Aug 2015

Posted by in beauty, becoming, courage, freedom, learning, movement, poems, poetry, strength, transition

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And when you have to tuck your beauty away from the world to be left alone,

Or don barbs to let it be known you can be armed,

questions come-

do you engage, or duck and cover, or walk away?

Do you laugh or poke back or disappear?

In the freeze or fight or flight, where do you hold?

Words

stumble.

Momentum and strength kept you moving yet

look

look hard at the toll.

What you thought you could take,

and exactly what you have taken,

carry a cost your body will explain.

Body speaks loud.

Drop a sledgehammer on the used way,

watch a smile curl at the sight of its destruction.

Tools this grand, and in capable hands,

will topple the castle the dream 

along with those miles of manipulation.

What you’ve got here doesn’t come free.

And it’s yours.

Underworld

11 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by in becoming, dark, learning, listen, movement, night, poems, poetry, transition

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Tumbling into

an underworld.

Sound stolen in the descent,

movement coming from

an unknown what.

Vanished light and a search yet begun.

A wisp of swirling wind.

Inhabiting a different body,

a novice of winged creation must

forget the familiar. 

Hanging topside down from leafless tree

amid dark layered upon dark,

sonar registers obstacles and surfaces

of a territory

summoning,

expecting

arrival and exploration.

Travel here is not optional.

Curling claws around smooth limb,

with wings wrapped securely,

head dangling,

blood circulating,

there can be a reaching

for nothing.

Required senses develop.

Survival.

Still, suspended, and waiting

in dangerous territory

while skills emerge.

Quieting impulse,

lets

a silenced knowing 

arise

for one newly born.