a constant gnawing
deep within
to be fed
and tended to
through The Mouth
that did not know
its mother’s milk
suckled instead
by the middle finger
of its right hand
The Mouth that spoke
not a word
its first few years
now relentlessly demands
food
attention
silence
rarely satiated
riddled with shame
and melancholy
a downward spiral
often begins.
here, now
this time
a long breath
slowly let out
through The Mouth
gentler with the hunger
less intolerance
more patience.
“Are you homeless?”
she asked,
penetrating my self immersion.
“No, why?
I responded, a tad vexed.
“Because of your bag,”
she said,
pointing to the shopping cart
I was wheeling behind me.
“I am homeless,”
she shared.
I stopped,
emerged from my shell.
We stood
face to face
under a first quarter moon,
meeting each other.
Yolanda was her name –
engaging,
loquacious,
deeply rooted in her faith,
enamored of the Celestial Realms.
She spoke of harrowing experiences in the local shelters,
of the inconsiderate and dangerous conditions –
especially
for a woman
alone.
Just a year ago,
Yolanda had a home,
a husband,
was employed with a car.
A divorce rendered her without,
leading to her sleeping
outside
for the first time
on a frigid and blustery night.
Yolanda alluded to
grown children,
yet gave thanks
only to the kind strangers
who kept her fed
and still alive.
“I will pray for you,”
I offered humbly.
And I have,
and will continue to
pray for Yolanda
and all in our human family
on their own
out
in the bitter cold.
This is not the way it’s supposed to be!
We are each other’s keeper!
Indeed, we are each other!
When did we forget this?
No mere coincidence,
my time with Yolanda.
Divinely orchestrated,
potent seeds planted.
An assignment awaits.
some times
i get hungry,
typically late
at night,
just before
i am supposed to be
in bed.
the hunger comes –
an unease in the pit
of my gut.
the mouth follows
with a desperate urge for…
what
exactly?
don’t want to go deep
now.
and so i reach
for the sourdough bread,
carefully peeling its edges,
nibbling,
satiated.
any pieces beneath the crust –
whoa…intense!
it feels way too much!
water
this is where it all begins
with us
shimmering
in the fluid amniotic
bliss-fully breathing the mother
until summoned
to enter
spitting out the water
to take in the air
our bodies
forever
to consist
mostly
of the water
our journeys
punctuated by
the water
tears
sweat
multiple re-births
bathed in the salty waters
until beckoned
to exit
the wave
returns
to the water
where it all begins
again
we fall down
and we get up
we fall asleep
and we wake up
back and forth
up and down
the spectrum of consciousness
we go
round and round
the cycle of unwellness
until
sometimes quite suddenly
a shift
from deep Within
Grace
a gentle beckoning
to another
completely different
way
Still-ness
is quiet
and slow;
a Mountain top
in lieu of
the marketplace;
blessed Solitude
chosen over
the complexities
of company.
Still-ness
is the Moon’s femininity
relative to
the Sun‘s great fiery 🔥
may we Be Stll
to know
to then act
from Heart 🙏
this place,
these people,
those words,
that feeling,
been here before.
The Benevolent Universe
slowly closing a door,
ushering in
something unfamiliar
far beyond my
imagination –
another assignment
an opportunity
to learn
to grow
to contribute
and explore
pieces of me
never seen before.
anticipation clasps the hand
of trepidation,
resistance gradually gives way
to acceptance
of a Journey
marked by the continuous
making
and then
the breaking
of bonds.
just a few days ago,
a conversation ends,
powerful emotions swelled,
old wounds
ripped
re-opened,
breathing
constricted,
Earth under feet
no longer –
shifted,
cracked,
trembled.
oh no,
not again!
The Protectors
came to The Door –
not safe,
run away,
disengage!
she teaches me –
my Little Niece–
a Guru from the day we met –
months into a pandemic.
she taught me
then
the feel of unadulterated Love –
startling in its immediacy and potentcy!
she continues to exemplify
curiosity and Surrendered play.
Innocence demands cultivating
patience and acceptance;
necessitates
being
there
fully
now
in Its Presence.
Innocence is exquisitely perceptive –
cannot hide for long
behind the “adult” masks.
she humbles me,
de-constructs me,
my Little Niece.
forever grateful 🙏
forever changed 🙏
“I am your husband,”
said The Mother
to The Daughter.
Not entirely an untruth,
as Mother dwells in household
with her eldest Daughter.
They share expenses
and secrets.
They are each other’s “somebody”
the unspoken priority,
the new nuclear family,
the what remains
when what was The Core
splinters off
never to return.
burgeoninc 