My daily practice is to walk memory lane
shining light into dark places.
And the fact is, it’s on another plane
the birthright and the so-called empty
spaces (where we’re filled with fire,
the electrical impulse of our desire.)
A portrait emerges,
flickers through time and now
a portal to a child’s rhymes
through the smoky haze
those early days touched
piano bench posture, fingers flying
lyrics voiced repel the lying.
And then the graveyard shift,
digging up bones, the long-forgotten
roots surely the key, my pedigree
stories carved into my DNA
the wave that carries me.
Like peering into a crystal ball
or to the stars, the all-
encompassing need to understand
just who I am.
The screen changes, lyrics
long hair bent over guitar
plucking emotions like strings
ah, the power to sing.
Add this trip to the realm
of rainbow trees, pure love
shimmers radiant, slip,
Drift into travel without any fear
that I could feel, backpack
alone through jungles, dive
into chum-baited waters.
Deceived and disconnected.
Now a belief in angels
feeling the jerk out of danger
into grace. My heart-race.
Always the woods, pulled into
sacred by the trees, seated
in peace, a wiser woman
watches. The retrieval celebrated
by a flying eagle—who disappears
into gray, the illusion spinning
in every way fog through cultural
myths, the shock of we
coming with these fragmented
like splinters magnetized
onto the lodestone of attention
the separation gone.