Gentle advocate.
I walk the same path each day
From house to woods and back again
I marvel at spiders and their way
Of resting on air while dinner flies in
They wift they waft like dandelion seeds
Any landing spot is fair
No steady hearth; the simplest needs
A spider’s home is anywhere.
I haven’t given up yet
in fact I never shall
I will keep my hope
hold to my faith
know my heart beats
for a reason and purpose
and trust my soul
to lead me to those
who need me
and to those
I need.
Many wait upon my path
I do my best to keep moving.
And if I cry
I will think of it as a cleansing
releasing that which i don’t need;
and when I laugh
think of it as a blessing
gathering that which fills me;
and as i breathe
I will think of it as a prayer
of love for this earthen body;
and when i sleep
I know the peace of the divine
Will flow through me.
And when I sleep the last
I will become the peace of the divine
Uninterrupted, Unfiltered, Uncontained.
Warm December night
One brave frog sings for life’s joy
Listener’s heart rests
Anything born
has an emergence
from the great being
into a seeming separation.
Ever after
these multitudes of forms
seek to merge
through love if they are lucky
hate if they are desperate
back into the oneness.
–
The great emergency in human life
is in the feeling
of isolation,
the urgency
to re-merge
to consume or be consumed…
–
And of course, the end, the very end,
ends the feeling of
isolation
as these forms
(who were never separate)
merge gracefully
once again
into the all.
How do you describe heartache
with words?
the steady burning at the center of the chest
like a swarm of bees
kicked out of a hive
that became too full.
—
the humming mobile mass waits
as scouts fly away
looking for a new home –
all missing the familiar combs
the dark brood boxes
the warm known neighbors
a safe night’s sleep.
No new home looks as good.
—
a mass of patient upheaval
hanging from a strange limb
crawling around the sweet brave queen
who led them here
and now waits for guidance.
—
Discombobulation
Uncertainty
fear
future unknown
her faith and patience,
the only hope for this body’s life.
—
and then comes darkness
the ache cannot be ignored now
and the cold is harsher
nowhere to fly
no distractions
no hopeful view
no purpose but to wait –
and stay warm –
till morn
—
the buzzing incessantly loud
a painful immobile moving mass
surrounding such a small queen
homeless heart of life
burning wide-eyed heat into the night
determined to make it to the dawn
with these honey-laden wings
for it is all about
survival survival survival
swarming heart
When the seed splits
beneath the earth
with unobserved courage,
it knows only to rise, rise,
patiently climb to the surface.
At first poke, it’s green head bashful,
breathing air for the first time,
an imperceptible cry of joy!
it’s mother, the earth itself,
stays low, shaded,
allowing the sunlight
to drench this little being
in its grand entrance.
–
When the mother bear
first pushes the cubs
out of the mouth of the cave
into the cool spring day
and they roll and play across the earth’s soft belly
she sits back, tired mother, in the shade
against the rocky entrance
letting the sun’s radiance dazzle newborn’s fur
playful, rolling center stage:
grand entrance.
–
When the human mother
cries out in pain and joy
and the baby’s head crowns,
contractions circling ever outward
like ripples in the water,
and the child becomes the center –
the mother the circumference.
Baby takes her first breath
entering this magical mystery
as the mother weeps
enshadowed by the radiance
of the miracle
of yet another grand entrance.
.
Have you ever seen
From where the moon starts to rise?
–
At the ends of the earth,
It’s the most silvery dell
In the crook of the farthest mountain
Where sunlight never fell.
–
Where unicorns romp
and satyrs play
and mermaids gay
swim with dolphin babes
–
Roses of blue
and irises of white
decorate this glade
dancing in silvery light
–
Snakes slither softly
past dandelion stalks
a silver moving labyrinth
beneath the white seeds tossed
–
They gather on the highest rock,
silver tongues divining the air –
calling down the drops of dew
sending up the gentle moon.
–
She leaves her home without complaint –
Her joy to release this magical light.
The earth’s pleasing transformation begins
as across the sky she slowly wends.
–
Foxes slink and deer stroll
raccoons eat and opossums roll
owls stay high, the mice stay low
as moonlight climbs through every knoll.
–
Even our common human feet
can’t help but dance when the magic entreats
All are transformed by the moon’s gentle path:
Beauty returns, innocence lasts.
–
But stubborn Zebras stand at the edge of the dawn
waiting for the promise of the sun
Sure enough the dew begins to fade
And the evening’s magic is lost to the day
(you know the zebras hate anything grey!)
–
The harsher light burns magic from the air
owls stay inside, foxes stay in their lairs
the smallest differences now seen as flaws
across the earth dancing feet pause.
–
Yet back in this most silvery dell
the moon has returned, it’s easy to tell:
Snakes slither down, unicorns rise
the mermaids dance, to the satyrs’ surprise.
–
and this being of peace, she rests and restores,
by the crook of the mount
on earth’s farthest shore
the roses blue, the irises white
too many to count! They dance even more!
–
Still softly shining through her slumber,
like love unbound, giving gifts without number,
once again the old become young
in this place where ancient truths are sung
(by mermaids’ lips and snakes’ silver tongues).
–
Have you ever seen
where the moon starts its rise
leaving her home
to climb through the skies?
photo via shutterstock.com
Except for the deer,
our prints were the first ones
on the trail that morning.
I liked how I followed her paws
My two alongside her four.
–
Such a pretty morning
We walked farther than ever before
Crisp air lending quickness
Snow brightening the gray.
–
Finally the return;
She was at the river
when I started back, alone for a moment,
retreading our almost pristine path
observing the symmetry of the prints
perfectly together, over and over,
uninvited, the thought slipped in:
what will I do when she is gone,
best friend of ten years?
–
For a moment
the hills felt steeper
the snow more difficult
the air colder.
–
Then she came bounding to me,
river-playing icy-legged,
tail wagging,
brown and black dotted with white,
with stick in tow
to lay at my feet
then a swift bark, demanding
Play now!
Play now!
Play now!
The secret lies in the words themselves.
Here, five functional beauties:
manacle / spectacle / pentacle / oracle / miracle
Separate except for endings,
together
they teach about vision.
Do you see?
–
A manacle – the shackle
to which woman and man adhere –
a chosen prison of our agreed-upon vision of reality
to which we limit ourselves in order to feel safe.
–
A spectacle – an event that reaches the bounds of this reality, yet still lies within –
a place where few of us dwell, we who find safety in the middle,
thus we need a special name for it: spectacle.
–
An oracle, one who, unshackled, ignores the limited view and looks beyond,
telling us what is coming and what is going.
In return for this gift, we give ridicule,
saying it’s not possible to see this way,
yet we secretly go to her, in shadows,
seeking assistance with our blinders.
–
A pentacle, the symbol for a set of beliefs based on that which we cannot see,
finding power in the elements,
finding magic.
Its followers
found persecution.
–
A miracle, when something outstanding happens, impossible to refute,
in which the laws represented by the manacle are broken,
in which the oracle is frequently justified,
in which the pentacle blinks not in surprise,
in which the limits of possibility are expanded,
causing hordes to gather at the edge, ogling,
likely causing a spectacle,
–
and there they say:
I cannot believe it!
that could never happen!
It will never happen again –
but what a miracle it has happened this once.
–
Our history resides in the words we have always used;
take any group and find their truth.
These speak of what we allow ourselves to see
and what we allow ourselves to be.
two twenty AM
if I lie on the kitchen floor
I can just see it from the back window
without the shivers of outside
earth’s shadow moving across the silvery-yellow orb
I’m mesmerized at the significance
of a lunar eclipse
on the eve of the winter solstice
–
cat keeps sleeping
dog yawns, wanders over, then rests
chin near my side
unamused
unassuming
unimpressed.
I wonder
why do we find such meaning
in the world around us?
–
Silvery yellow turns red
Whole sphere visible momentarily –
surely an enshadowed
cosmic lesson
with indisputable meaning –
impossible to comprehend.
photo shared from blogs.sacbee.com
I am an author, teacher, and healer living in Durham, North Carolina, and I believe that living your truest life is a responsibility, not a frivolity. If we each work to discover our innermost guidance and follow it, our world will be more joyous. So, embrace your art, whatever it may be, for creativity is guided by the soul, and your creation may be another's inspiration. As a race of creators, rather than destroyers, perhaps we will come closer to the natural harmony of life on the planet.
Dragonfly Poet 