Eclipse

One

must read

the signs

carefully,

my child–

it is not every day

the sun

and moon

touch lips

and then part ways.

 

Do no let one

chase the other

in vain–

follow

their footsteps

into the sky

and realize

your own emptiness,

your own infinity,

your own basic goodness

stretching out

like a smile

over the pale blue

horizon.

 

December 26, 2015

While Walking

A division in the concrete

warrants a bruised knee,

some pep in the step,

perhaps a quick jump-and-skip;

you never want to break

your leg

but you go on,

hoping for the best…

 

Luck was never with me.

Luck was always with a friend.

 

And I was neither friend

nor foe–

what does that make me?

 

What does that do

to make the grass greener

as I leap to the other side

I want to hear God

scream my name,

tell me all will be okay

that the ditch below me

will not be my only home

dollar bills my only friends.

 

I need fresh air to breathe

before I need new policy

(too bad fate landed me in this century).

 

In the pitter patter of rain

I stop and wait

for the pen to start,

the mind to move

and ink to pour out–

just as the sky empties itself,

my heart needs release.

 

I spare

the crack in the sidewalk

not for my mother and her back

but for my sanity–

I’d rather my soul fly

than my spirit fall.

 

December 23, 2015

Anxiety

When you open up about it

I’m not promising it will be easy.

.

When the air becomes thick

like white cream cheese

and you can’t simply scrape off the edges

with a knife you wonder

who else is feeling this way?

.

I thought my mother did;

but she said, “What I’m feeling is physical,”

I thought the government did;

but they said, “She’s a terrorist

and he has a mental health problem,”

I thought a suicide every thirteen minutes

would be enough to prove

our grasp on this epidemic is not tight enough.

.

I want to say,

“This is physical,”

when it crashes over me

like a war-torn tide,

daily sabotage not unlike your migraine

I wish I could go swallow an Aspirin

but one pill in the middle of an ocean

will not magically make the water calmer.

.

It is when we realize that we are

the water,

the tide,

each speck of sand we trickle onto

they are sprinkled in our bones–

not unlike the stars

the heavens will always be there,

waiting.

.

For even at your worst,

peace is always flowing;

anxiety

is not you,

it is just a word

you may not feel it now

but feel your breath–

it has not left you yet

the beauty found in nature

is found in your own skin,

still waters under roaring currents

just as Love sits

under pain,

patiently.

.

When you open up about it

I’m not promising it will be easy.

.

I’m promising it will be worth it.

.

December 20th, 2015

spread some love today and speak your truth– you are worth it

grounded

these days

are meant

for grounding

.

let me

open up

my willow arms

and sink

my roots

deep into

 the earth;

at a time

when the world

can’t stop moving,

the ground is still

and I think of you

.

pairing off

into two colored lines,

one yellow, one red,

from the blood we’ve shed

after years of chasing

each other

.

now, we are here

.

here, we sink

into soil

and sprout

like flowers do

.

pick me

from the ground

and place me

in your hair,

why don’t you care

.

tell me

you love me

through the wind

and you’ll never

have to tell me

again

.

you,

my daffodil

and me,

your rose,

grounded

in this messy,

torn-up

love

December 14, 2015

The First Day

The day I sat

and looked in the mirror

I stared:

I was looking at me.

 

But it was not me

that I saw.

 

My pupils rounded,

black trench coats

preparing for summer rain

my skin relaxed

after the ebb and flow of the day

I dared not move

for there I swear I saw

the light of a soul.

 

Inside my body,

beyond my mind

there lays a spirit so vast

that it does not know me by name

it stands tall and strong,

not with pride,

but not without it, either.

 

When you are Light,

I suppose you need no one

to tell you just how brightly you shine

 

I felt confused;

I felt at peace–

as if I had known this feeling all along

 

It was the first day of my spiritual practice.

 

It seems so clear now

but with fall leaves promising signs of winter

at 18 years

all I wanted was a pair of mittens and a safe

place to stay, away from the cold.

 

Listening to Spirit

is not always easy–

but it’s always needed

 

to quench a thirst deeper

than Jesus felt in the desert,

Buddha under the tree

when

compounded

together

we have every star, every Being

right here beside

me stood a mirror,

and in the mirror, a face

searching its own lines and faded chords

for lyrics one sang long ago…

there were mountains in my eyes,

an echo on each peak.

 

A sudden wave of peace

rushes from my pores, into the night’s sky

and asks you to grant its wish–

to look at yourself

not as you,

nor me,

but as One

 

a single universe united in song.

 

December 16, 2015

You

So you–

you–

want to write a poem?

 

Start by walking out your front door

and saying hello to every face you meet:

bird in the sky,

leaf on the lawn,

a summer wind falling gently over you

and you still–

still–

want to write a poem?

 

After an over-worked day at the office

gray cubicles and clear ice cubes clinking

on paper cups I just want to make sure

I’ve heard you right:

you,

who wakes up every morning

just to paint the sunrise;

you,

who tallies ticket orders

and buys Christmas presents,

builds log cabins

and feeds the homeless;

you

who has ever wondered

what your place is on this Earth–

you

want to write a poem?

 

The Earth hears your beckoning,

is waiting for you

to open up

open the door to your soul

and realize that man-made

will always have its limits…

the mountain peak will always

surpass Mountain Dew

and wild thoughts fall flat

onto to the blue horizon,

spread out like a quilt

nature made just for you.

 

Hear it whisper,

my dear,

that beating in your heart.

 

You mustn’t

simply

write a poem.

 

You are the poem.

 

December 9, 2015