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.

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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.

 

Take To The Deep Snow

I scare up a sparrowhawk

opening the door

treading through the cold shadows

to emerge into

the kiss of apricity,

diamonds gleaming in the powder

I kick up.  If I were a snow-

suited child, I’d be deep

in the creation of angels

smiling into this bright

sun instead of snapping

close-up photos only

to discover no card 

in my camera.  An empty

gesture on a day

I am out desperately

seeking grounding,

slipping on the ice,

stumbling over the plowed

chunks along the road

until I choose to step

into pristine white

waiting and willing to show

my way.

A cardinal sounds the alarm

followed by a lone crow’s caw.

I search bare branches

to no avail.  Another bird chatters,

perhaps a bluejay

hidden, marking my passage.

I allow myself to feel 

the vital pull

of the earth until 

I’m back in the house,

my intestines clearing

in a rebuke at my attempted

natural healing, or

else this is simply letting go

of all the years of being

a doormat.  Stand up for yourself,

my ancestresses shout,

a dizzying chorus of browbeaten

women, back farther than I can

imagine, rattling the chains

of their servitude to abusive

men.  And I want to,

oh, goddess, so much,

even as I surrender

to my sickbed to lie

cold as a stone

until I rise again

to pen these lines.

Inspired by:  Rebuke, Vital, Apricity, and Imagine.

Bless Me If I Stay Alive

Freezing a waterfall is not…easy, since the water molecules are continuously moving and can therefore easily detach from the bonds holding them together. ~ Ashish

 

When I was 10, I wrote a letter

to my grandmother, seeking

facts about her lineage.

Finally, at 26, over cocktails,

she confessed she’d received

a missive from a maiden grandaunt

upon her marriage, an envelope

filled with family facts.

She’d pitched it, saying,

who cares about this shit?

finding out exactly decades later

reading my request.  Those are

our only two encounters I recall.

Still, I carry my grandparents’ enmity

like this photograph, a frozen

waterfall of immense power

inaccessible to two

drunk teenagers, dismayed

by the arrival of needy

children exposing their own

unaddressed wounds.  Only able

to call for more

alcohol and hatred,

finally repelled like magnets

from each other and the seedlings

their brief union sprouted.

I’ve tested the ice gingerly

to arrive at their trauma

locked inside my own genes,

now demanding I thaw

what has been blocked.

And so under the heat of my

regard, I set out to accomplish

this feat, releasing the flow

of energy to my own

descendants waiting impatiently

downstream.

 

Inspired by:  Photograph, Enmity, Letter and Accomplish.

Title inspired by Bert Hellinger in Looking Into The Souls Of Children, “Behind the scene we…see something else is at work, and the individual is at the mercy of something that does not reveal itself easily…other powers are at work, and the people involved do not understand what’s really going on….Go to these dead…and say to them, “Bless me if I stay alive.”  

Photograph taken 1981 in Queen’s Canyon, Colorado.

Plays By Intuition

So many women in my lineage

had no chance to grieve:  

file that in the DNA

and hope for someone like me

to open

a container big enough

to hold the river of sorrow

without being swept away.

Precariously crumbling footholds

where I patrol.  In the darkest hours,

often forgetting who I am,

losing my light,

peering into the rising

waters crashing below me.

The lineage-trauma breathing

through me, and I’m pondering

madness, defined as it is

by people who know

the control of the narrative

is imperative.  I mean, I’ve been 

the pinball

racking up impressive scores,

slamming into an obstacle

and triggered into flight

only to hit the next

target, over and over.  

Is my age

showing here? Does anyone

play pinball anymore?

Such a counterintuitive move,

to simply relax, falling

past the electric shocks

into the drain. 

Not in this society,

missy.  You stay in the game.

All the rules defined by 

the people who need

you to be distracted

when your rage ignites.

Look online, track the

spiky statistics to determine

who likes you.  The days

spinning, whirling, sick

until the sleepless night

claims you

and dark thoughts lead you

once again

to the steep cliffs of despair.

Inspired by:  Madness, Spiky, and Ignite.

Out of Difficulties

My wise embodied  future

self laughs with her entire

being, invites this sober

woman so intent on healing:

relax.  I anticipate her arrival

layers of resolutions

from dissonance to consonance

singing together

harmony emerging in the sheer

passionate joy

rejuvenation.

She is an enigma.

You can’t get there from here.

She beckons, glimmering

through the mists of knotted

cords, the entanglements

which hold me firmly in the past

I keep recreating

and calling the present.

I set my intention

in the deep space

of high intelligence

that surrounds me

always available

even when I’m squirming

like a worm on a hook,

all of my resistance an inevitable

lure to the destiny

I’ve rejected.  Come on,

stop the nibbling;

feast on me.

Take me into your cavernous

depths and transform me

into the next

unexpected miracle.

Inspired by: Resolutions, Enigma, Anticipate

Siu Yin

According to the urban dictionary, Siu Yin is Cantonese for little swallow.  It signifies that wherever you are, you can always find your way back home.

We try to scrape off the dirt

from our inception

as teens, denying our roots,

caught in the pursuit

of autonomy, anxious

to wash away any trace

of the entanglements

we struggle against.

Give the finger.

Raise the fist.

Caught in the web

we glimpse its ominous

glimmer in just the right

light.  And the old ways are lost

so we talk suspiciously

of conspiracy, puppet masters,

seizing the perspective

of the powerless victim,

the one that keeps us in

resistance, or medicated, lost

to the dark secrets

of the new moon

invisible before us.

We splurge on a temporary

pleasure, paying interest for years.

And then we are old

and learn to relax — at least,

those of us who have crashed and burned

in an almost fatal crisis —

into the abundant universe

unfolding in slo-mo.

Subtle beauty available always

under the structures of the prison

we build so industriously,

tumbling into bed

exhausted, our only vision

the next layer of walls we can

erect come that nebulous

teasing tomorrow.

 

Inspired by:  Dirt, Inception, Pursuit, Splurge.