though bruised and battered –
still Love
confused, befuddled, disheveled –
still Love
disheartened, disillusioned, disappointed –
still Love
unhinged, undone, unkempt –
still Love
perplexed, meandering, questioning – still Love
ignored, misunderstood, un-Loved –
still Love
in the noisy-ness and messy-ness of this Life –
still Love
in perceived isolation –
still Love
to the very last breath in encasement –
only Love ❤️
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 🙏
dreamed last night
of a school bus 🚌
containing fifty-five passengers –
all Me.
different stages, faces, phases.
students – curious 🤔 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 🚌
frozen, in shock 😲
“why them, not us?”
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.
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.
I did not see You,
Mystical Eagle.
saw Your shadow –
dark
atop the green of the grass
in juxtaposition to the otherworldly
blue of Your Sky.
caught the outline of Your Wings –
wide open
confident
gliding.
even in shadow,
Eagle
enchants and emboldens.
In BeLoved relationship
now –
menopausal,
modern elder,
refined lines,
silvered hair.
More touch craved.
Intimacy curated.
Explorations of re-membered Souls.
Wanderings taken through dilated minds
and in bodies made soft, delicate
by the passage of time.
With gentle intentionality,
fierce penetration
catharsis
synchronization
of Hearts broken wide open repeatedly.
Conversations – rich, infinite, deep
while the wondrous sea
teases our entangled feet.
Meandering walks in The Untamed Woods,
silently communicating
as Kindreds are wont to do.
Nourished by
succulent food,
mystical tonics,
wild-crafted wines,
quiet evenings spent
luxuriously entwined
in sheer awe of The Big Sky.
A taste of Blessed Divinity at play:
you were always coming my way,
and I
preparing for you,
my wildest dreams
come true.
family –
what does this word mean, really?
blood relations?
friendships?
resonance across space & time?
from the Latin word famulus,
denoting servant;
same root as familiar,
yet family can feel
more distant than stranger.
our people, our tribe,
our ride or die –
we so easily say,
but behave
often
in an entirely different way.
loneliness continues to rise
worldwide.
perplexed, we ask why
given so much connectivity.
might it be
because we
forget
how to be
how to do
family?
“Autobiography begins with a sense of being alone. It is an orphan form.”
― John Berger
i am tired, Lord.
hold on.
hold on for what?
for Me.
i don’t know that i can…
you can; you have.
i am tired, Lord.
I know; hold on.
.
why are we
in such a hurry –
always –
to leave,
to fix,
to judge,
to eat,
to “live”?
.
what is the origin
of the discomfort
to truly lean in,
to listen,
to stay,
to sit,
to be Still
in commUnity?
.
Alas, the contradictions
of a splintered humanity –
we say we crave
companionship,
that we are
profoundly lonely,
yet we tend to
scatter soon after we Gather.
we seem to be able
to contain only so much
life,
love,
time,
energy,
words,
presence,
silence.
.
why?
burgeoninc 