Carry On

Tell me

what type of wind

would have made you stay,

tempted your shallow roots to grow

and adventures to remain

silent in the mind,

considering the heart instead–

talk about vulnerability

when all you see is mastery

even a mindful soul can grow lonely

what bit of sun-dipped skin

did you need to see,

prepared to acknowledge that freedom

is free to think about

but a lifetime of hurt to know

that “fate” is just a word,

“choice” a guarantee

unlike thawed flowers in spring

you’ve uprooted–

away from my heart, from possibility

and “we” becomes “me”

I continue the journey.

 

I learn to carry on.

 

January 2, 2016

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

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

Pen and Paper

The connection

of paper on pen

makes me want

to believe again

in life,

in love.

 

If two souls

can touch

so silently

and still leave

such a mark,

what is to come

of us, my dear?

 

I can deny fate

like sinners laugh at God;

I can wake at dawn

and see only moon, not sun.

 

We can wander forever,

looking for the ink–

the touch of pen on paper,

a love that saves, not sinks.

 

November 5, 2015

My Mind

At times,

I feel nervous–

nervous that it

is stronger than me.

*

It can make any situation into a problem,

labeling itself a “worry wart”

(and who would ever want to be a wart?)

this is my fear:

*

It will change my relationships

it will tarnish my career

it will make all the beauty I’ve felt inside of me

feel meaningless.

*

It is crazy to think I’m not alone.

*

The truth is that beauty is eternal,

and my mind

will never be stronger than my presence,

patient like a willow

it will flow in the breeze,

follow me step by worry torn step

relaxing my insides,

releasing the mountain of love

that lives inside my chest–

it lives in all of us.

*

Sometimes,

I read quotes;

maybe they will make me feel “better”

maybe they will “fix” my mind–

I know only I can.

*

At all times,

I know there is timelessness,

the truth,

our only savior,

waiting for my heart to forgive my head,

catch up with my soul,

and allow myself

to lay,

still.

*

September 20, 2015

Bein vulnerable on this Sunday.  Peace and love. ❤