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
grief
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.
summer
always so activating,
the summer months,
for me:
so much skin exposed,
flesh seemingly everywhere-
breasts
legs
midriffs
butt checks-
all as overwhelming
and stifling
as the humidity
and the heat
and that inner voice
incessant speak:
“cover up and hide,
yours is not a body
for display to the outside.”
Marieβs Lamentation
The Mother gave birth
To three daughters
None of whom
Would ever bore another.
Two of the daughters β
The eldest and the youngest
No longer carry their uterus.
Two surgeries-
The one, reluctant to wake from Anesthesiaβs deep slumber.
The other, she almost did not recover.
The only daughter with all organs intact,
Chose to walk a childless path.
The Mother
is sad
heartbroken
grief-ridden.
Blaming herself
for the end of the family line.
No legacy, only perceived decline.
βWhyββ she asks, wailing at her Fate.
“Did I
in Life
make a horrendous mistake?β