Garden of the Gods

When I read the email interdict
something finally clicked.
Forbid me to meet and laugh
and tease, deny as frivolous
conviviality on which the soul feeds?
The pressure’s on to be
a callous cog
on the ruthless wheel
building the soulless world.
We’re trained we must not be
the being bursting
with creativity. No, we must
bow to the needs of survival–
pay the bill to stream
carefully crafted scenes
the only way our soul can feed.
Today I sing my own decree,
follow my intuitive nudges
dance with my grumbling grudges
and dreams about how it should
be–the shoulds that keep me
blind and deaf. The music’s
now! These groaning trees,
this patch of snow, the bit
of blue and white as the gray
grows to include a vastness
cursory glances ignore.
And I embrace poetry
and warm gazes, holding
hands and awkward hugs,
invitations unfolding
and when I can’t be with you,
I’ll be with me, glorious
wild woman spinning free.

Inspired by: Convivial, Frivolous, Pressure and Can’t. and this soul-food photo from an earlier time, a hike in Garden of the Gods, near Manitou Springs, Colorado.

Soundcloud recording here.

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.

Listen to this on soundcloud here.

Money For Old Rope

The path to crisis is boulder-
strewn difficult. One must
strenuously avoid the
temptation to do nothing–
that is, they say, when evil
triumphs. Beware any
chance to sit in silence
clear the inner murmuration
of starling-thoughts flying
intricate patterns of karmic
misperceptions. Try and try
again! Do! Move like a murder
of crows as the tempest
feeds on your panicked
activity. Onward, to the
breaking point! Trouble looms
and brewers, we foment
with such good intent, and yet,
our trajectile initiates from
hate, the very rules we seek
to dismantle. This is more than
we can handle.

We set down
the old-world tools
curious, unsighted
to receive what now
has newly lighted.

Inspired by: Triumph, Crisis, Nothing, Temptation and this photo taken in 1890 of my great-great grandfather visiting his son in Colorado.  Do we carry the old ways in our genes, or do they carry us on a wave of preconceptions?

Soundcloud recording here.

Grove Child

It’s important to keep drawing attention to the way we’re being manipulated out of having any control over not just what happens in our world, but over what we think about what happens in our world.~Caitlin Johnstone 

As a child, I knew one and one
is more than two. Objective science
impossibility, how can we
subtract ourselves from any
equation? Daffy ideas, and foolish
notions, separation presented as fact,
emotions denied, some caprice of robotic
will drummed into me, drumming me still.
As if an unsound tangent took the place
of integrated, syncopated pace
that I could see and feel and trace
in roots and branches, leaves
the grove in which I bathed perceives
me, dissected and inspected
enslaved by depraved systems
which I ought to imitate
for a good grade, abandoning
my precious glade. Urged to behave
while all around me science dug
its unearthly grave. A circling
pattern of thoughts inserted
and my young self perverted
until we arrive today.
That story no longer holds sway.
We see we are complete, as obvious
lies crumble at our rooted feet.
And here we compost this rich soil
with our collective intentions,
the cosmos glimpsed as we uncoil
poised for this evolutionary leap
waking from cultured hypnotic sleep.

Inspired by: Tangent, Daffy, Complete and  Caprice.

Soundcloud recording here.

I Arrive

At the big box store I recognize
a wailing child–new to my eyes
and yet I’ve sung those notes,
tightly buckled in a cart, mother
engrossed and boggled so ignores
the tiny being’s outraged roars.
I pause to give my presence, meet
the tearful eyes, witness her hiccupped
surprise. We look. It’s clear
there’s nothing to be done
or said. We’re here. The gift
of my expanded space and her
receptive face. She’s heard.
I see she’s vital in this day-
light chance encounter. She
was frightened when compassion
found her. I hold her gaze.
They move away in sudden
silence. And now what guides us
is the warm regard that says
we are together, there’s no
alone, unheard, unseen; there’s
deep embracing presencing.
Her power recognized–she changed
my way! Alerting me to the web
and what’s in play
the echoes sing just underfoot
opening to the new input
we choose connection, we embrace
each other with true affection.
Arriving home, I put on paper
the steps that surely wake her.
I hear you. I see you.
Your heart is true.
Your voice is strong.
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
We simply step as we belong.

Inspired by: Paper, Daylight, Vital, Boggle, an amazing course session in Conscious Healing, a crying child at the store and memories of my own cries (shown here, in the middle of unhappy brothers when I was six months old.)

Listen on soundcloud here.

My Island Temperament

Bali Ha’i may call you any night, any day. In your heart, you’ll hear it call you:
“Come away…Come away.”~Oscar Hammerstein II

Of all the lusty lives I’ve led, I favor these,
touched by the magic waters of the south seas,
my inhibitions shed, and I slipped out of time
to stay. Though people there I seemed to’ve left
behind, in fact our hearts are ever intertwined.
We reach across the miles in dreams and
notes, photos enclosed. No story ever told
really grows old. It winds inside the places
where I sat, the headlands slippery and wet,
waves crashing o’er my prescient head still
smell the salt. I burned those memories, a
treasure thread to keep–knowing I must go
and yet return in sleep. My blood
and lineage pulled me back to roots
unsettled in the stolen land so how
could I stay and steal again, when home demands
I make amends? The worlds are spinning
through what’s real, captured in this love
I feel that like a creeper or an invasive mint,
I set down roots by dint of poetic intent.
And though I’ve leapt across the oceans
every life I’ve left behind continues
in the new soil
in me and I in you the web expands
with each small truth
brush strokes with knowing hands.

 

Inspired by: Lust, Temperament, Brush and South Seas.  Featured image: my favorite coconut grove in the Guajira Peninsula.  (I changed the form after great feedback from the wise Judy Dykstra-Brown.)

Listen on soundcloud here.

The Energy Release

Dedicated to the magical Eva

We practice the great art: embrace
what arises in our widest place.
In wordless zest we see
who takes the reins and drives
me through each shadowed face.
We relegate gregarious
inclinations to conflate
nefarious motives.
Whether she is eight or some past life,
ancestress or an archetype,
what matters
are these chains she holds.
We see her vigilance wary
yet her power to subsume–
all my personal space set
to devour.
Our container holds
witness on the beach
building multidimensional sand
castles in our reach.
We are here
to celebrate
as the light reveals the shackled,
shackler and more,
the very chains, the dungeon floor.
We peer through
the acrid smoke, the gasp
of rattled lungs. We find the one
who traces spirals on her
palms, while seeming bound.
The treasures found! As if
a stage, the script blocking
the exits and the entrances in time
locking it all
and still I’m circling
to meet myself at last.
The past survival story
of the wise witch in her
glory now.
The residues of pain
I count as gain.
Healing dances through the sleep-
less night, energy released
from places deep must find
the way. Obstructions melting.
I’ll be okay.

Inspired by: Zest, Gregarious, Conflate and Personal.

Soundcloud recording here.