Everything
Every thing
Fills me with awe
That it exists at all,
Whether by design
Or by chance—
For either way
All of life is a wonder.
Either Way
Enough
ENOUGH! she declared
Upon realizing why
She hadn’t felt well.
Well! It was no wonder.
She’d let moldy old habits
Move back in
With predictable results:
Sick of her own festering discontent,
Drained from exaggerating her own lack,
Bullied by self-criticisms
That had spiraled into tornadoes,
Bruised from stretching herself
Into past and future
To slap every mistake
And spank every too-slow advance,
Whipped by the brutal taskmaster
Of her own perfectionism.
How had she let the abuse
Go on so long?
She crawled into the tiny
Shelter of NOW
That she’d created
Just by being who she was
And smiled big at the relief.
This was enough;
SHE was enough.
Beloved
You asked for a sign
After falling hard
Like pummeling rain,
Lost in gray-clouded melancholy
And drowned by puddled worries.
So the universe
Painted you a bright-lit banner
Wide across the sky,
Spelling its message
In the wordless language
That nourishes souls: *BELOVED*
And the soft echo,
Like a lover’s whisper,
To be sure you heard: *be loved*
Grandma’s Hearth
I laid my heart
At this hearth
When I was too young to know
That I was doing so,
Too young to hear
These bricks whisper in my ear
“You’ll always belong here”
Since they’d soaked in
The faint impression
Of my discarded laughter
And preserved it long after
Me and my sounds
Had moved on.
I was too young to think
That the complicated thing
About the eventual aging
Of homes and their people
That never used to seem old
Is they’re so much a part of you
That they’ll break you apart
Once their crumbling health
Refuses to reverse and heal.
A funeral
Never feels real.
I laid this hearth
In my heart
At our farewell
So I could fare it well,
Buoyed by grand heritage
That rises like grace with age,
When we are old enough
To savor each laugh
And care what lasts.
Continuous Reincarnation
I’ve looked for myself
in all the strange guises—
In Barbie bodies,
academic minds,
fashion ads,
CEO women,
and Instagram lifestyles;
In goddess lore,
tarot archetypes,
historic traditions,
religious rites,
and spiritual gurus;
In family culture,
artistic passions,
health trends,
fitness challenges,
and home decor;
In free-range wanderlust,
birth-set astrology,
synchronous signs,
exotic dreams,
and the sway of trees
when the wind asks them to bend.
I’ve peeked in every clue-filled book
that called me to search its pages.
I’ve dug beneath rocks
others warned me
not to pick up
because they feared
where I might throw the stone.
I’ve combed possibilities
that scared or excited or bored
or repulsed or amused me.
But no peel-and-stick label fits right.
I need room to change
my mask again and again
like a photo overlay,
to shape shift or reincarnate
from one moment to the next,
undefined,
except in the vast stillness
of being.
I understand now
the magic namelessness
in saying
I am what I am.
Spring Fling
I admit to being partial
To the frilly pink dress
When Nature dons it
At the miniature level,
As if it were growing
These costumes for
Tiny faeries no bigger
Than a child’s smallest
Finger. Just imagine
The twirly faery ball
About to take place,
So riotous that layers
Of their skirts will fall
Softly to the ground
In clear evidence of
Spring’s merriment.
Intro to Poetry
How do you tell
An image is a poem?
Watch for how the light falls
And how the stillness
Magnifies a hint of meaning,
Or how the colors sing harmonies
As the textures soften reality.
Watch for the way
Your eyes tell your heart
You’re in love with life.
That is the poem
Waiting in every moment
For you to see and feel it.
The Click of the Lock
When a locked door
Has thwarted you
For so long,
The turn of the key
And its loud click
May startle you
Like the miracle
It is.
You may stand
In the open doorway
Hesitant
With wonder,
Pausing before
You take a step
Into your shifted future.
That moment
Is your prayer
Of gratitude and hope,
Whether you give it
Words or not.
Sharp Truths
Life is weird.
The forms it takes,
the moves it makes.
Every peek into
strange dimensions
of water, desert,
history, coincidence
stabs and shreds
our self-drawn
mind maps.
Try again.
Humans might be
prickly and defensive
about the boundaries
we’ve imagined
around reality,
but it doesn’t stop
reality from poking us,
jarring us,
forcing us to accept
a little more.
Unlimited
I surrender.
Again.
Daily.
Ignore the limits
I spewed out
On autopilot
About the grass
Being wet/cold/muddy
And not right.
Ignore the limits
I impose on you
Or on myself
About how and when
And where and why/why not
And who and what.
Ignore the limits
Of what anyone tells you
Is or isn’t possible.
Even the things I say
When I forget
How silly limits are.
I surrender.
Again.
Here.
Now.
Awake & Amused 