Sacred Moment

this strange,
sudden
lonely
traumatic
seclusion.
A particularly fierce form of Grace.
All a bit of a blur-
so much has taken place
as revealed by this now wizened face.
Innocence gained and lost
as we endeavor to make the most
of what is truly a Sacred Moment
a pause, a break, space
for resurrection and metamorphosis.
Who will come of this?
Already feeling familiar pieces
falling away – cannot retrieve them
for there is no going back-
only surrender –
a radical submission,
to humility and a facile generosity
born from the remembrance
of our connectedness
and shared ancestry.

RED

Mixed emotions,
my relationship with Red
the color of
sensuality and menstruation-
of sin and punishment-
as I was taught.
Red did not hide-
neither docile nor shy.
Red, to me,
embodied extroversion-
loud and insufferable!
Beginning,
in the latter chapter of life,
to warm to Red some-
to appreciate her contours
and taste her complexity.
She’s beckoning me, Red
an invitation to finally
stand
firmly
in my Power.
It’s always been there,”
Red says.

Mask

Alas,
how is this suppose to work
now and going forward?
Vulnerability,
the removal of our masks –
invisible and heavy-
had just become
more comfortable
for so many.
Now,
suddenly,
the mask-
sterile and tangible-
has become
mandatory.
A rare treat
to see a naked face
walking down a street.
We’ve become aliens
out of necessity,
orbiting around each other,
getting no closer
to the “stranger”
that six feet.

Holding Space

holding space
resonates for me
deeper than
simply taking up space.
giver,
an easier fit than that of
receiver.
a calling to serve
with me since birth.
compelled to leave an imprint
to help make our world a little
better and kinder;
to mirror back to people
their best self, their good seeds
offering that which was not
always reflected to me.
And so, I hold space,
co-creating an expansive
and porous container-
a Welcome mat
a soft place to breathe,
to grow, to change.
A space that also
expands and contracts-
as intimate as the womb or a cocoon
and as wide as the night’s sky-
whatever the healing yearns for,
I hold The Space.

Penni

Dear Penni,
do re-member
Who You Are!
Do not allow
the scorn and
insecurity
of others
diminish Your Light,
trigger self-doubt,
leaving you so stressed
the right side of your face
is trembling,
eyes lowered filling with tears,
posture folded in,
appetite lost,
feeling unappreciated
and misunderstood.
Do re-member
Who You Are!
Our world needs your
shine and smile.
There’s also
a husband
and children
to consider –
your priorities,
above all else –
most especially-
the work
you abhor
that elicits
such a degree
of distress
you can lo longer ignore.
Re-member
Who You Really are-
see You
through You.

The Wall

I hit The Wall
today;
ran right into it –
mind, body and Spirit – splat!
Hit it so hard,
the tears came
tumbling down,
suddenly,
out of seemingly nowhere.
A deluge –
in public no less!
“What is this?” I cried,
trying desperately
to cover and hide.
A rare occurrence
for me-
losing control,
forced to surrender,
pause,
look,
pivot
and reconsider
choices made,
examine
subconscious motivations,
and
the allowance
of subtle intimidation.

Grieve Well

there will always be
reasons to Grieve:
some pain
some joy
a passing
transition
transformation;

something is
birthed
unfamiliar
uncomfortable
new.

what was known,
no longer is.
there is loss,
an opportunity to grieve
to metabolize grief
to break it down to digestible pieces
and reconfigure into
gratitude
acceptance
presence
wisdom
courage
a remembrance that no thing stays the same.

change, death –
both seen and unseen –
is constant.

Grieve well
let go
so as to fully
let in
through
out.

No blockages
no limitations.

What remains?
spaciousness
for manifestations.

LIFE (scene two)

LIFE

can seem insane.
So many of us are unable
to withstand its pain.
We do our best to live,
to contribute
to a world
constantly changing
and maddening.

Still, through it all
some of us manage not to fall.
Like a seedling
making its way up through concrete,
we spread our wings,
we plant our feet.
We’ve found our place;
we are lauded and celebrated.

But then-
in the blink of an eye,
an “apparent suicide“.

What happened?!
What went wrong?!
Does not success
bring with it sustained happiness?
What of us
for whom no one makes a fuss,
who daily squeeze into an overcrowded bus
to a job that leaves us empty and numb?
If the “extra-ordinary” so regularly succumb,
how then does the “ordinary” overcome?

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation…” Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Change to Save

I will need to change my life
in order to save it.

This I am feeling to my very core.
Don’t know  how much more
I can swallow.
I’m walkin’ on thin ice,
on troubled waters that are shallow.

Born an introvert, Quiet is the air I must breathe,
what sustains and maintains me.
Without adequate doses of silence,
I lose pieces,
become untethered,
cannot see a hopeful reality,
begin to question my existence
and that of all humanity.

Why all the noise –
the incessant chatter and mindless banter?

Y’all gonna make me lose my mind
up in here, up in here.
Y’all gonna make me lose control
up in here, up in here.”

I will need to change my life
in order to save it.

Deprived of silence,
I feel my blood boiling,
heart racing,
hands tremblin’,
mind slipping.
I can taste that bitter, flimsy line
between love and hate;
that soft, raw space
where even the gentlest among us
can suddenly snap
and do things we can never take back.
The Devil isn’t over there-
No, it plays in us all
bidding we follow
and fall-
fall so hard and low,
we can barely stand up.

I will need to change my life,
re-claim it
in order to save it.

Exactly how to do so
overwhelms and scares –
the tide is seemingly so high.
Got to go deep inside,
to The Core
lean only on that which is Truth and pure.

The Commute

I had plans
today.
Plans for adventure
and duty-
all
entailed
The Commute
to The City
on the weekend
when all Hell is loosed
and The Commute
becomes an Intolerable Beast,
affecting me
everywhere –
from head
down to feet!

The relentless rush,
the multitudes of people,
trains disabled.

The smell of urine
and rotten cheese
emanating from homeless humans
with limbs grotesquely diseased-
scratching, sleeping
begging, hustling.

And then
there’s The Noise
my God –
crashing
repeatedly
angrily
forcefully
into me,
engulfing me
like a seismic sea wave,
driving me crazy,
utterly insane!

I must go deep
inside
retreat,
hide-
do whatever it takes
to survive
The Commute’s 
overwhelming
and exhausting
stimuli
I so desperately hate.

I was not built for this
no, not me
the sensitive introvert
who thrives
only
in relative silence;
who loves
longs for
peace and quiet.

The older I get
the more intense
is the stress
that The Commute
elicits.

As my threshold
for tolerance
rapidly drops,
the more urgent
the need
for a fresh start-
a new, different Life,
one devoid of The Commute’s 
inherent strife.