I’m In Tune

There’s a symphony that I hear in your heart, sets my head a’reeling.~Pete Townshend

Balanced here now she’s tuned right in on you
and I am entranced. I wish to sing my
own dance in the angel’s grace she’s imbued
with. If she doesn’t have wings, no doubt she sighs

over feathers birds drop at her feet. Strength
and clarity. She’s sure in her being,
pausing–as I assume he says, Don’t blink.
That’s good. She stills. He captures harmony.

Inspired by: Wish, Feathers, Assume and Balance. Featured image is a faded photograph of my best friend’s ancestress. When I saw it this morning, I heard The Who singing Getting In Tune, in response to the Stream of Consciousness Saturday’s prompt to look at a photograph, seize the first tune that pops into your consciousness, and write about that.  

It’s Turtles All The Way

In yesterday’s imbalanced waking
parch overwhelmed me. Today
I determine to soothe

water and grounding these indignant
filaments writhing and buzzing
from the past’s unintegrated

barrage. I sit and extract
my personal fear, empowered
to heal myself, my family,

my lineage, society, the planet
the universe and more.
Time and distance constructs

—the illusion of separation—
dissolve, tumble like a child’s
castle made of blocks.

We build beliefs in our jangled
misperception of danger,
forget to knock them down

laughing and certain
of our power to create anew.
I tune in to what is

as all the ripples of my intention
create balance
here in the present

where I, a self-healing miracle
of love, resonate
a heartbeat, breath

infused in everything that matters
which is all, which is one,
awakening and taking the step now.

 

Telling New Stories

Someone’s been telling you stories, and they just ain’t true.~Dan Fogelberg

Here in the chaos of dismantling
the grip of greed, we need new

myths like heroines channeling
the bones and roots our great grand-

children will discover, digging
in another time to uncover

the resilience of Gaia. They
won’t waffle, trapped in lies

of separation, our intrigue here
a mystery–why did they hide,

they’ll likely ask, when told
the stories we are crafting bold

and leaping from the tangled knots
that we believe enslave us

and deprave us, suddenly caught
in a flash of light, insights

streaming–we’ve been dreaming!
Looking deep into our very

essence, we sense the connection
so clear outside our manmade

boxes fear designed. We’re out
of time. Each breath we presence

now becomes the gift of freedom.
How our ancestors loved us,

they’ll exclaim, our true words
reaching far beyond our graves.

Inspired by: Myth, Resilience, Intrigue, Waffle, beautiful and mysterious Spanish moss
and the need for us to shift the narrative and create new myths right now for the sake of all of us.

 

What’s Coming

At the top of my list, of course,
is breath, but my next best friend

is death. They walk me, teasing,
loyal life wants to live

escorted in the arms of lovers
dancing in the flavors love

layers. Naming every birth
we create separation illusions

with our powerful beliefs
that sweep us past and future

rocketing by the song-now.
Birds chittering through oldgrowth

forests sound the alarm as we
play foreigners, our roots forgotten

we emerge from trees
and soil, composted

through uncountable millenia.
We chirp until named, we spread

our wings in arrogant denial
a flurry of greed to clothe ourselves

with what we buy in fear of
our imminent demise. Missing

the call to shine, eminent
moment of this particular voice

in this astral alignment.
When we walk in peace with our death

unafraid, we open up the stranglehold
past, let go of the predetermined

future at last, the patterns blown
in our explosive joy.

Death isn’t lurking, looming, it’s coming
for you now in deep orgasmic waves thrumming:

Our only prerogative, let’s be clear,
is to be alive right now, right here.

Inspired by Prerogative, Explosive, Foreigner and Eminent.

 

Someday I’ll Wish

When man up is extinct
and we escape the patriarchal
clinch, embrace instead
what’s rarely said in macho
bravos–lunatic fringe
simply a piece of our
extended tapestry–in short,
when we appear just as we
are, with deep respect
(the long neglect of hope
suspect when we must always
correct some fault that’s deep
within our ancestry) when
that day is here
I declare
the evolutionary leap
the shift is in the air
we breathe and suddenly
we see the edgy intricacy
of our imperfect beauty
simplicity when we
bowing, stunned, aware
there is no better you
the one that we receive
and care, unplumbed
perfection when we dare
admit the hidden pieces
the critic sighs,
looses and releases.

Inspired by: Rarely, Extinct, Hope, Clinch and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt Man Up, the last movie I saw.  Once again, the demand to create a stream of consciousness post stretched me beyond my comfort zone.  And I’m glad!

 

Medicine Bag

For E, choosing high school soon.

On the brink of this vast
wonderland, hurray resounds
off the cliffs of middle
school, where you’ve been
humming as you grow.
This tall man’s body you
inhabit with all the melodies
of childhood still alive
vibrating chords you can pluck
at will. I celebrate
your strength, tap your shoulder
to show your lineage,
this wave of life that thrums
to live in you, through you.
I offer crystals to support
your journey, grounding your
utter brilliance as you
navigate the openings,
releasing the false tones
to settle into your own instrument
finely tuned. You take your place
in the exquisite symphony.
Your voice is exactly
what we need to hear.
The song you are
magical and clear,
resonating into the musical
planet. Touched, changed,
we rejoice your being.

Inspired by False, Wonderland, Vast and Hurray.

 

It’s All Relative

To my Grandaunt Perdita, photo taken on her 98th birthday.

No one points out the bruises
puce under translucent skin
still we all picture the leap
during sleep.  A gap between
dreams, her body calls.  Pulled
across the floor, barely
in when she falls, slams into
tables and walls. In our impulse
to accommodate her reckless
drive, we push aside the traps,
all clear for her next dive.
It’s just the cost, she sighs,
of being old–well into her
tenth decade–colors bold
and fading. A map of every
mishap, the body’s upbraiding
layered pain. Even now,
she gasps, oh, I’ll remember
this! holding an aching thigh.
No longer limber, more and more
half-dozing in a chair, all the live
parts dancing disconnected
in the air. Rejected pain
both old and new. The only
thing loved ones can do
is offer space to come back
down, recall the sacred place
where we at birth are found.
Death is just a step away.
The clear choice to sing today,
with harmony just out of reach
the song itself is under siege.

Inspired by: Accommodate, Puce, Leap and Impulse and the indomitable will and cheer of an amazing Capricorn woman.

A Portrait Emerges

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,
another shift.

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
pieces, drawn
like splinters magnetized
onto the lodestone of attention
the separation gone.

Inspired by: Portrait, Dark, Daily and Memory Lane and a golden eagle soaring through my writing this morning.

 

Hidden Karma

I plan to extricate myself
from this poisonous family
yet my immersion is total,
I’m accountable for all.
Like an unhappy city dweller
eyes fixed on the stars
certain that on Mars, there
is happy. I look around
unseeing eyes tell lies.
Earthbound earthling like
an eyelash longing to be free
of the source of all ills
apparently. I grab the axe
and chop so desperately
at surface roots. Ah,
will I never see
I am the tree?

Inspired by: Total, KarmaAccountable and Extricate.

Pulled By The Past

He’s bursting to play in this brisk
autumn, so soon after we both succumbed

to the nasty bug from preschool.
Something inside cries, no! Seemingly stray,

a thought, how did they manage in olden
times? And just like that, I catch

the epigenetic trauma alert interlaced
and concealed. Keeping us alive.

The whole damn town reeling two
hundred years ago, this child’s

fifth great grandmother losing four
loved ones in the fall, weather

so similar it stirs our guts and
makes us jittery. We’ll bundle up,

declare this trauma broken up,
a new ruler of integration and

consciousness, choosing fresh air
and being present for ancestral warnings.
Inspired by: Jittery, Brisk, Broken and Ruler and the tragic life of Mary Glaze, my third great grandmother and the traumatic fall of 1838. First Solomon, her 43-year-old husband, died on September 26, followed four days later by her five-year-old daughter Sarah, and three days later her three-year-old daughter Elizabeth.  Did I mention Mary was in her last trimester of pregnancy?  On 28 October she gave birth to a son, Joseph, who died several weeks later.