Be

Being

a human–

what are we

ingrained with?

 

Are we patched

up with our fears,

long before

we meet the spider?

 

Are we made

to go hunting

for spaceships

and the meaning of life?

 

To be

is the only answer,

the only response,

the only real question.

 

So often

we feed ourselves

that which is opposite

of Being.

 

We are made

to touch

the light;

We are made

to be

the light.

 

Or perhaps

we are simply made

to Be.

 

March 5, 2016

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The Revenant

Last night,

at the movie,

you sat next to me.

 

The theater

was full,

I sat alone

between you

and three guys,

conscious

of my singleness.

 

But then you

rolled over,

to share his faux

leather recliner,

and I smiled.

 

Most of the time,

my independence

likes being alone.

 

It gets its own seat.

 

March 5, 2016

Something Worth Fighting For

Do you

have something

worth fighting for?

 

Under the depths

of a powerful river

do you think,

“I wish I could tell you,

‘I love you,'”

then yes–

you have someone worth fighting for.

 

In the next snowpocalypse

do you go drifting off to your bed at noon,

arms full of magazines,

gin on ice

and a mad idea of hope–

you,

yes, you,

have something worth fighting for.

 

Last week,

the last one in class,

sweat dripping down your neck

and pair of unfortunate yoga pants,

determined to be in the now–

oh, you dear–

you have something worth fighting for.

 

The way things are these days, we all do.

 

All terminology aside, cutting

the “fight” off “ing”

allowing Being

to simply be

the one thing worth illuminating:

there is no fighting to be done.

 

I am not the only one.

 

We are all, deep in our bones,

careful risk takers,

taking empathy by the hand,

showing them a good time,

and then, with a faint smile,

letting them go.

Yesterday I watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on a whim (and it was totally worth it, naturally).  The final scene really got to me.  Dumbledoor tells Harry that he has one thing that Voldemort does not have: “something worth fighting for.”  Sadly, I couldn’t find any good clips of this part on good ol’ YouTube, but here is one nostalgia filled video, ending with the classic line, for any of you fellow HP lovers.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNhHqLYEMVU  

 

February 12, 2016

through my window

the intersection

of tree

and sky,

the lines 

they paint

across pale blue horizons 

while two black specks of bird chase each other.

***

Truth,

expanding over snow-dipped houses–

it will never be found beneath my pen.

***

the earth knows things my mind cannot see.

***

but I can still sit back,

exhale,

and soak in the view:

a single, conscious moment in the universe.

tumblr_nxewliCb0n1u489n5o1_1280.jpgFebruary 6, 2016

One for Love

A gentle tap.

A slight placement

of a hand,

carefully, on my back.

Eyelids perched

on radiant,

story-layered skin.

The sound

of your kiss

like the rain;

the taste

of your breath,

a summer wind.

Your gaze

tells me you have

everything,

right here.

I trace your lips

to remind you

I am

only extra.

 

January 27, 2016

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