likely
the most egregious
manifestation
of toxic masculinity:
Empire –
the relentless
drive
for bigger and more,
the insistence
to divide
and conquer,
to possess
and hoard,
the thirst
to pillage
and hurt
indiscriminately –
children,
women,
trees.
at its highest vibration,
masculine
is creative
and generative –
the perfect complement
to the feminine.
when did it all go astray?
fortunately,
The Pendulum
always
swings both ways.
nothing
lasts
forever.
grief
defund hate, please π
despite
the clear mandate
of all religions
and spiritual
practices,
we humans
cannot
permanently
defund hate.
we speak of
peace,
love,
inter-beingness;
write books
and sing songs
of overcoming
someday.
we fancy ourselves
the superior species,
“civilized”
technological advanced –
and yet –
fueled by agitation
steeped in fear –
we choose
the same
tired
dance –
hate,
dehumanization,
domination,
revenge,
war.
over
and over
and over
again –
even as
no evidence
of sustained
effectiveness.
still,
thankfully π
always,
Hope,
for where there is
darkness,
Light a patient Presence,
at first a mere speck,
a lone voice in the vast wilderness,
then brilliant glimmers
and a soaring chorus.
.
ππ
abortion
abortion –
such a tender,
personal
subject.
thought about
avoiding it altogether,
yetβ¦
nothing is random.
this prompt,
perhaps,
a nudge
from The UnSeen Realms.
“go there,” They are whispering,
“where you fear to tread.
delve,
explore,
see what is brought to
your fore.”
Thy Will be done,
and so the plunge!
disoriented, at first,
breathless.
cold, murky waters
down here.
Silence
then suddenly –
searing pain,
sadness,
heaviness,
a dull ache
deep in the Heart –
some remembrances –
vague fragments –
from a past
or future
existence.
.
π
.
take a trip
called to take a trip,
looked without
was immediately redirected
to within –
some barriers –
long ignored –
now ready to be
explored,
softened,
and then
fully integrated.
no meaningful present
nor move forward
without looking
back
through different lenses.
.
π
.
Ice Cream
you kept me afloat
when every fiber
within
ached to dissolve
into The Abyss.
.
you soften me
when numbness
threatened
a corporal takeover.
.
you gently calmed
when agitation
penetrated
deep
into my bones
and invaded my Soul.
.
with each taste of you,
the nervous system
settled,
the breath eased,
the heart, slowed down.
.
your cold
warmed me.
your rich, velvety texture
tethered.
.
often my only source of joy,
you were a faint glow in a long tunnel.
.
no you,
no me
here
now.
.
π
un-done
why does this word –
un-done –
resonate, always,
so deeply with me?
a distant memory?
a recent past Life?
a glimpse into a future?
no fear is felt –
rather, much anticipation;
the realization of a need;
a rite of passage;
an initiation;
a shedding;
re-birth:
a blessed second chance π
school bus
dreamed last night
of a school bus π
containing fifty-five passengers –
all Me.
different stages, faces, phases.
students – curious π€ and studious;
sensitive and pensive.
on a trip one bright day,
another school bus comes along.
suddenly, out of sight – bam!
“bodies every where!” some one screams.
on my school bus π
frozen, in shock π²
“why them, not us?”
fear
fear is a Gate.
to where?
another realm,
a clearer lens,
an unimaginable
reality,
a new face,
a chance to awaken
and break
destructive cycles,
generational patterns,
and long expired
unconscious
contracts.
a different vibration –
more stillness
on this Side,
bliss-full contemplation,
grounded regulation,
time for deep integration,
leading to
coherence and its twin, remembrance.
Here too,
the surrender and freedom
that beckon
sweet Peace
from its longtime captor, fear.
NO MORE
what will it take
to study war no more?
how many precious Lives;
how much devastation;
to shed delusions
of “you”
“me”
“they”
“we”?
what will it take
to See
inter-sectionality,
inter-dependence,
inter-being;
that I am Me
because you are You?
how to be finally relieved
of this exhausting
burden and cycle of trauma
seeded in
retaliation
revenge
reactivity
dis-regulation
and perceived “wins”?
where is the Space
for cultivation of
mind-full
measured
response?
what will it take to just
STOP βοΈ
consciously chose
LOVE
in lieu of hate?
when do we decide
we walk the paths much less trodden –
forgiveness, Truth, reconciliation?
what spells and prayers might we invoke,
sacred concoctions prepared
to awaken from our stubborn slumber,
to re-member our shared humanity,
banish war from our vocabulary,
curate abiding Peace βοΈ π only β€οΈ
Crimson
Dreamed of Crimson
last night.
The color of blood,
a symbol of pain –
Crimson on the streets;
streaked in the snow;
steeped in the Ground.
crimson on our hands,
we reek of it,
blinded and choking on it.
redemption can only come by it.