Poet

poet,
a prophet
who tells truths –
sometimes directly,
at other times, cryptically
depending on context
and the audience.
.
poet,
an oracle,
playing in
the different realms
with graceful fluidity.
.
poet,
an empath,
sensitive to energy,
penetrates the masks.
.
poet,
a tree,
deeply rooted
in the Soul,
limbs reaching
for the mind.
.

stretching

don’t feel like
what I was
then
just yesterday.
body feels looser,
more spacious.
mind,
lighter
a little less judgment
and constriction.
heart
beats slower,
breaks faster,
heals
spontaneously.
all of me
stretching,
breaking agreements
defying parameters
that no longer fit.
maturity
settling in,
eldership,
dusk.
.
πŸ™πŸ₯°
.

defund hate, please πŸ™

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 πŸ™
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.
.
πŸ™πŸ’•

abortion

abortion –
such a tender,
personal
subject.
thought about
avoiding it altogether,
yet…
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.
.
πŸ™
.

re-mind-er

been immersed
in The Woods
this past week,
roaming blissfully
amidst
trees –
majestic fir,
medicinal cedar,
soaring pine.
each a teacher πŸ™
emanating wisdom –
urgent re-mind-er:
universality
connectivity
community
reciprocity.
messages abound about
The Cycle of Life:
birth
maturation
shedding
inevitable decline
and demise
re-purpose
re-birth.
re-mind-er of
similarities
and uniqueness,
of patterns
and curious deviations,
of Life’s creativity,
humor,
generosity,
and relentless
fearless
experimentation
and playfulness.
re-mind-er
of the ancient
intimate
dance
between
fire and water
de-struction and re-generation.
re-mind-er
of Life’s stunning fragility
and astounding resiliency,
and of Its preferred
pace:
slow
steady
silent
infinitely patient.
no rush,
only profound Trust.
.
πŸ™

for the lovers

for the Lovers
of humanity,
hold on
do not give in
to the prevailing
cynicism
and seeming
turbulence.
recall
the innate innocence
of each being
before, alas,
the inevitable
deep conditioning.
remember
the capacity
to awaken and heal –
sometimes instantaneously.
no one
is irredeemable.
the seed of Grace
lives within all.
.

expiration date

been thinking
and talking
about death
more
lately
within community
and in Solitude.
wondering
about
the expiration date
for this present
embodiment.
perhaps,
the prompt
for this contemplation
is an impending
“birth” day –
completion of
one cycle,
the beginning of another.
no guarantee
of continuing.

off line

unplugged
out of office
off line
completely unreachable
on re-treat.
please do not disturb.
in desperate need
of moments to myself
to ground and grieve,
re-unite the pieces
let go and given away
unwittingly.
slow
down
to a
halt.
quiet
listen
look:
who is the “me”
of now?
.
πŸ™

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.
.
πŸ™