Variations on White

In my laboratory where I conduct

experiments on the living

connections which emerge

as I magnify my focus,

a red cardinal flits by.

Brown trees hold up

the lucent white sky.

The frosted white water

is ringed by whiter snow.

This word white is useless.

I scattered black sunflower seeds

under the brown thicket of lilac,

the impenetrable screen so favored

by the wintering songbirds.

Earlier, a pair of dark ravens

flapped in, one settling at the tallest tip

of the oak across the street,

the other accompanying a barred

owl into the poplar.

Noble birds in majestic trees.

Hunters playing

off each other’s unique talents,

usually hidden in the dark

but at dawn,

sitting

at just the right angle

I watch the soundless drama.

The day-old fullness

of moon brightens

all this glowing

until the first intimations

of purple and pink

blaze under the blanket

of white.

 

Inspired by:  Noble, Angle, Magnify and Laboratory.

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FEAR (False Evidence Appearing Real)

Before dawn, the sky is filled

with two full moons, strange

since at last glimpse midnight,

she was mostly swallowed by

a circular shadow.  Caught in dreams,

I light a candle, reflecting on my

windowpane something significant

I’ve asked to be shown.

Be careful what you ask for,

my true being plastered over

with so many false beliefs

until I am encased in this marble

statue, a derivative

of

something greater than I can

wrap my mind around.

There is nothing left

to do besides

play

crunching over the ice

with the bitter cold

stealing my breath

aiming my camera in every direction

in a futile attempt

to capture the beauty

of this instant.

artcolorsfullmoondawn

Inspired by the super full moon, the partial lunar eclipse, Lunapics fun filters, and the prompts: Dream, Derivative, Marble and Plaster.

Dawn On Me

 

Furious at delays, things in my way,

people slowing me down,

I would still change pace

with pets, mostly dogs

who hiked with me through

the wild places I visited.

On my trajectory of change,

the representative of a simmering

lineage, homeless, stepping always

on alien lands with the unacknowledged

guilt of colonists.  Uneasy but focused,

striding through “on your left”

the airport walkways with my cross-

country skier pace or

driving with my foot down

racing to the beat.

A list of goals

and things to do,

eyes on the prize.

Until a cough grew worse.

Finally forced

down into darkness,

breakdown and loss,

contemplating death in the devastation.

Stripped of everything, my innate

joy surfaced. And now

I celebrate

my unique

steps, pausing to see

what is

and always

coming back to my breath.

Inspired by:  Unique, Cough, Pet and Representative.

The Clearing

~ Dedicated to Cristina Bevir and SETM.

I’m tuning in to this high intelligence

like a tool, a formula,

a magic wand to integrate

all the misinterpretations

cooking in my stew

of yearning.  I listen

to the longing for love

pushing the envelope,

painting the calumny.

“Bad boy,” my grandson says

with a fierce scowl.

I release the heartache

triggered by his tone.

There is an opening in so-called

reality, a way

to mitigate this ancestral

storm by bending before

its force with curiosity.

Allowing every image,

every buried memory,

my faultless intuition

guides me through darkness.

It is constant, holding

mild and humble

as I witness the great

power of healing.

I sit

and offer my expansive

lap: come snuggle.

As our heartbeats connect

we align to the deeper

places of pure possibility.

Inspired by:  intelligence, calumny, cook and mitigate.

Focus

You’re always so solicitous

when I’m ill, as I trace back

to find the particular ingredient

my system reacted against.

Yet all the while,

the unexpressed anger

I held

in the face of enmity

casual cruelty

turned any food at all

indigestible.

It is only now

sitting for a year

for an hour every morning

I listen into that deep space

slide of easy integration

where flowers this new opportunity

to honor my sensitivity.

What was onerous transforms.

The shard of shattered righteous

I found so irritating

now gleaming in new light.

Look, what I hold

and respect, what I release

is also yours,

a great cultural movement

and I am here

for you

as I’ve always been

even

especially

in my blindness,

my terror, deaf,

wincing from the anticipated

uppercut, trapped

in my innermost

circle of hell.

A click as it all comes into focus.

The new way of seeing

the fog lifting

I call your name.

Inspired by: Onerous, Shard, Opportunity, and Uppercut.

 

Saying Yes to my NO

“We don’t speak unless we are spoken to,”

I say, firmly, one raised brow.  “And we don’t turn

our backs to the Queen.”   My brothers believe

my refined umbrage at their rudeness.

“We’ll miss her when she is on her throne,”

they confess to my mother, and one asks,

“How do you become a queen?”

“She’ll have to marry a king,” my mother declares,

although she could just as easily have

opted the way of my father’s bloodline,

the Stuart Scots, “She’ll have to kill

her cousin.”  Casually cutting my quest

for boundaries and respect

marriage or murder

the only choices she could see.

And now she looks up startled

from her murder mystery

as I tell my grandchild, “You simply claim

your birthright.  You step to your full glory.”

Relaxed in my queendom like the Empress,

having sent four emissaries to the borders

in a clear, resounding no.  Crowning

my emotions with the Queen of Cups.

All the growing things I nurture

through the Queen of Wands.

As much wealth as I can summon

as the Queen of Pentacles, and as

the Queen of Swords, who’s summoned

Sekhmet and Hathor, fiercely

feminine, I brandish my pointed

no.  There is a hallelujah chorus

singing through the intricate

pattern of my lineage

as I remember to reach back

through the ever-present now

whispering into the ear of the sad

little girl rising through the chaos

You are a Queen, my darling,

chin up, stand tall, emerging

here we rule together.

I stretch my bones and open

this container to hold more

and more essential pieces

integrating my radiance.

And you look past this easy-

going smile and stop

at the steel resolve

forged in the love

I merit and give myself

unstinting, even as my

strong no lands in you.

 

 

Inspired by:  Intricate, Associate, Umbrage, and Quest.

(War) good God y’all

What is it good for?  Absolutely nothing. ~ War, Edwin Starr

I confess to be an avid

collector, growing, of the myriad

faults in the parroted party line.

I’d plan my argument

against their ideology, just

a typical rebellious teen.

Now I grope towards

emotional maturity, that mysterious

platform hidden by my fog

of codependence,

like Bugs Bunny’s a-ha moment:

of course you realize this means war.

Letting go of resistance, not fighting

the warriors at their own

game — and yes, bombing and killing,

starving and stealing

is a rich man’s power play.

Nodding a fond farewell

to peacing out

which so appealed in my childhood

songs, the bombers turning

into butterflies above our nation.

How is it we ignore the years

of slavery, the genocide of First

Nations, the unprecedented imprisonment

of the poor?  How do we pretend

the violence paid by our taxes

is necessary?  We’re urged

to choose a side, when both parties

barely glance up from their grisly

feasting, mouths dripping with

the blood from our hearts,

as they dimly notice

the foundations shaking

when we understand the pain

of the bit and the reins

and their heels digging in.

Inspired by:  Avid, Collection, Ideology, and Plan.