Another Life: Dream One

The next incarnation of Me,

I foresee

three darling babies

to whom

I am

doting, dutiful mommy.

Each said man-child

from my womb

shall come,

manifestations

of a long-held covenant

finally

exhumed.

 

In this other Life,

to an extraordinary Soul,

I will serve many roles:

His first lover,

babies’ mother,

forever friend and wife.

A beautiful home

together we build,

me and my boys,

filled with the Love and Light

we pray and persistently will-

cups so runneth over

that unto the world

our joy spills.

Monday

It is Monday,

a blank page,

a clean slate.

The day to exfoliate,

slough off the old skin,

the things that weigh down

and only deaden.

It is Monday,

the start of a new week,

bringing with it

opportunities to seek

the Light and beauty

in all we meet.

It is Monday,

a day of reflection

to answer the questions

for self-manifestation.

We ponder in silence

asking our God for His Guidance.

My Lord,

what to sow?

who to know?

when to go?

where to grow?

why so slow?

It is Monday,

the time to do over

to try again

for that four-leaf clover.

Another chance

to alter one’s circumstance,

to self-enhance

and awake from long trance.

Penetration

What does it take

to penetrate

the walls you make

for protection’s sake?

How do I get

to you

into you

through you?

What am I to do?

I come,

you run;

I confide,

you hide;

I offer space,

you then hesitate.

What does it take

to penetrate

your mind

your heart

your body

your soul?

How to release

some of that control

to which you hold

as if it is gold?

A body so tight,

a mind attuned to fight

or flight.

Yet, underneath,

I see a spirit

seeking an invite,

desperate for a way out.

When you are ready

to let me in,

to be the feminine

to my masculine,

I’ll come running.

When you are

no longer so scared,

I’ll be there.

When your mighty walls

finally

crumble and fall,

I offer myself

at our beck and call.

 

 

The Rainbow

Caught a piece of the rainbow today.

When did such a sight

last come my way?

Cannot recall;

surely I must have been

quite small.

Just as a child,

I now stared wide-eyed

at the pronounced colors

against the stark gray

of the moist sky.

My wonderment I could not disguise!

What a sight:

The Light, One Love

splitting into its many shades above.

So mystical,

the rainbow;

Magical, this great spectacle;

A harbinger of a brighter future.

Eleven Years

On the sixth day in the month of September of the year 2005:

A cell phone rings.

“It is your father,”

says the somber mother

to the busy daughter.

“He has been taken

to hospital…a stroke.”

 

Eleven years ago,

my Pop transitioned;

he left body

and went to Heaven.

One is never prepared for death-

especially that of a parent.

You know it will come eventually,

makes sense intellectually;

a matter to run from emotionally.

The day before he was to die,

he kept calling my cell line.

Over and over, he tried.

too tired and busy was I.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,”

I thought, fully justified;

not knowing he would not then

be alive.

Did Pop sense

his time had come?

Is there something he needed to tell

his eldest one?

What did I miss in

missing his call?

Did he go

thinking

I cared not at all?

Along with grief,

from guilt I found little relief.

Over and over,

in my mind,

I wrestled with my use of time.

Questioned my responsibilities:

Were they aligned with my priorities?

Eleven years later,

older,

a tad wiser,

I can begin

to myself forgive.

We do our best

in the moments we live.

Perfection, not the final goal.

Missteps, falls –

a part of it all.

Lessons learned

in his life and death-

Thank you Father!

No more regrets.

 

 

 

Blue

 

what you say about Blue

is really a reflection of you.

what you think about her,

a mere child, another’s daughter,

only reveals

your mind’s fodder.

it’s all about you,

Beloved,

never “the other.”

about the lens

through which

you see

your world

and your brother.

look deep within,

my Friend,

see finally

the depths of

your own self-hatred.

bring up to Light,

the memories,

tragedies,

stories

against which

you constantly

struggle and fight.

the ones that state softly

with great malignancy

only that

you’re ugly and unworthy.

beware,

going there.

for, ego will be scared.

it will deny,

try to you from yourself hide,

play with your mind,

saying:

“don’t go within,

too much of a burden;

play always on the outside to win.”

alas,

illusion, so easy,

often trumps reality

for many.

brothers, sisters, family –

we must re-member what we truly are:

Shining Stars,

servant spirits on a human journey

born of Him

to fully manifest

only our highest

and very best

Self.

Nothing else.

 

 

Au Cœur

Walking around

the City streets,

this piece of graffiti

I repeatedly meet.

It reads

to me:

Protect your Heart.

“Why?”

I wonder.

“Is such a thing

even possible?”

I ponder.

Is not

The Heart

meant

to be used,

broken open

and well spent?

Le Cœur,

it will never relent,

nor exhibit

sustained discontent,

doing that

for which

it was sent.

The grand design,

the clear intent

for us to be truly,

in life, content.

Strong and resilient,

The Heart,

also very smart,

crafted this way

from the very start.

Unlike a piece

of rare fine art,

The Heart

is not made

to be placed

on a wall

deemed too delicate

to fall.

No, no, no, no, no!

Not at all!

I contend

to me and friends:

Lay bare,

Le Cœur,

even as scared,

it’ll take you there,

that place,

that divine space

where only

COURage makes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sun Salutations

Dawn of a new day-

hooray!

Awake!

Give thanks!

Pray!

As within,

so without.

Morning meditations

strengthen thy House.

No perceived stress felt.

Mind, heart, body –

all aligned,

all in exquisite rest.

Work flows smoothly.

Everything moves so easily.

All that is seen is beauty,

even in this, the

big

busy

City.

No cacophony,

just sweet melodies.

No hurry,

only curiosity.

Frowns turned upside down;

smiles abound.

Gratitude, shared and found.

I see you, you see me.

Namaste,

we are a family!

No self-recrimination,

no regrets;

only admission

one did one’s best.

And so,

the stage is set

for when

dusk is met.

Peaceful sleep

will thee meet

with this day complete.

 

Deep calls unto Deep

such is when

Kindreds meet.

Deep calls unto Deep

when one cannot sleep

there is a yearning

as one is tossing

and turning.

Inside,

the child weeps.

Deep calls unto Deep

A dearly departed

snatches your heart,

tears it tenderly apart,

then captures your Soul

to make forever

free and bold.

Deep calls unto Deep

A majestic old tree,

an elephant resplendent

in its quiet dignity,

wondrous seas,

birth of little babies,

the birds and the bees.

All miracles,

they are

as the moon and the stars.

Look up and about,

Nature beseeches,

life so sweet

and utterly brief.

Deep calls unto Deep

 

 

L’Artiste

Blessed unrest,

the nest

in which

The Artist

all ways

seems to

reside.

Here,

she strives

to refine

define

design

that which is

ineffable

intangible

deeply spiritual;

that which dances

mysteriously,

provocatively

in her Head

then spreads

quickly

urgently

to her

fervent

Heart;

that which is

commonly

referred to as

one’s art.

A blessing

and a curse,

this art.

No clear end,

nor definitive start.

In its birthing,

both joy and pain,

moments crystal clear,

moments utterly insane.

Riddled with

insecurity

frustration

and doubt

throughout,

The Artist

stays the course

no matter the costs.

She simply must

and trust

in something

higher;

something

beyond

her.

For, she is but

the mere vessel,

a human conduit

through which

the insistent art

grows and flows,

and then

into the world

it goes.

Where it lands,

The Artist

is not

to know.

Not her concern

to this learn.

She’s done her part,

releasing the art.