To My Scottish Clanswoman

The Stewart clan motto: Courage grows strong at a wound.

Deep in my DNA you raise your sword
of fiery retribution and vengeance.

To battle, to the death! Triggered by
the bloody attack and ultimatums:

you do not belong and never have.
Do as I say or leave and never

come back. A spiteful vindictive
manchild with so much power

to hurt, to throw me out
is raging with terror. Yes, I see

it in you, my father, afraid
that death will come and grab

your breath—no ventilator for you,
old man. From your chair you lash

out at me, obviously
the cause of all your distress.

The fear porn you consume reaches
deep in our lineage, ancestors

cresting in a wave of trauma we’ve
called to surface. I sent an engraved

invitation to my own fierce warrior,
the one I’ve always judged, ashamed

by power that I’ve never claimed.
Good girls surely don’t bellow

bloodthirsty and yet, we hear.
I cower from your passion. I have

forgotten I agreed to come
and set you free. Remind me

again to embrace your wild
energy and bring you into

my coherent heart. This is
where we will start. Publish

the proclamations: my infrangible heart
is willing to host any ghosting.

These cruel tricks are no joke
wafting like smoke and still I breathe.

Inspired by: Ghosting, Infrangible, Publish, Trick and Joke.

Song for the duped

In our view a full-blown
psy-op—what a beaut!

Turns out, who knew,
we’re all afraid of death

by virus (at least that’s
the line they’re feeding us)

the usual suspects fumble it’s clear
they aren’t the masterminds

W.H.O. here could claim
the C.I.A.’s hand is anything

to blame Pompeo gleeful
with evil plans to kill

civilians starving them slow.
Hunker down inside even though

you all want to riot. Be quiet!
Follow the money, not the fairytales

(they’ve chanted this one before.)
Makes you gasp with dismay

when the Federal Reserve just adds
a bunch of zeroes. Hey!

They’ve got the world entranced
with that groovy money dance.

We’re all convinced. It all makes sense!
We binge on Hulu and Netflix.

The budget for the Pentagon is insane,
ominous lines of bases in range.

We’re complicit, dammit.
The true fear: standing up

speaking clear. How dare you
say this will take generations

to pay? Give me my money back,
you bitch. (I’m with Ben Folds

on this.) We gotta pull down
the satellites, ditch 5G.

The rain forests gotta be replanted
heal the lungs of our planet.

Are you up for this?

Control of the globe
the urgent shift

we’re birthing it
don’t look away.

I’m right beside you.

Soundcloud recording here.

Written for the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt “beside you.” Write about whatever is beside you when you read this prompt. Which is interesting, because this political blast was ten lines long when I stopped writing it, and thought, glad you got that off your chest.  Remember, you wanna put love and care into our sacred space. Be nice. Look at the SOCS prompt and write something…and then this specific prompt asked for what is precisely beside me and seemed to say, you do you, gurl.  

Oh, and inspired by Ben Folds’ classic, Song For The Dumped

From These Trenches

Use this crisis as an opportunity to deepen your understanding of how profoundly interconnected we all are. Respond to it by upgrading the way you take care of yourself, the people you love, and our natural world.~Rob Breszny

Today at four we’ll send more
blessings to the ones on the front
lines at grocery stores clean
the homeless and the poor
hospital workers in their useless
gear. Our fear outweighs sense,
handing over all our power
a patriot act—we’ve done this
before, hyped like a tiny
unprotected child to run around
in panic when we should be
dancing. Finally we see the evil
of economic sanctions—only a taste
barely perceived in our great waste.
The media drums nasty vibes
of China, focused on blame
so we don’t name
government-subsidized capitalism
is corporate socialism.
Assange who published the truth
locked in a prison languishing.
All of this anguish is getting hard
to hold. We’ve gotta open up our
hearts in connected space.
Bold step. This is the chance to level up
the human race. All the collective
trauma hidden rises up. We face
our greatest fears. Uncomfortably
settled on the bones of innocents.
In tears, we look at where our
money’s spent. So many fakes
and tricks, and as this is the
day of limericks, mine goes like so:
There once was a woman of peace
who shipped a moment’s relief:
just be one with the fear
though it might feel queer
when asked, reveal your receipts.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Ship, Child, Limerick and Clean.

At 4:00 p.m. ET today, we’re all invited to sit in meditation for 45 minutes and direct blessings to healthcare workers in what Thomas Huebl calls the download meditation (participants globally join in.)

Featured image taken in Seoul, South Korea at the Jogyesa Temple is a 450-year-old Chinese scholar tree.  May each of us visit an ancient tree today (commune with this one if you’re in lockdown)!

Also here’s an invitation to join in a free Thomas Huebl-led collective response to the pandemic by Zoom this Saturday.

In the fragile moments…

…love needs to run the show.~Thomas Huebl

Each factoid conflates and the
twittering ensues: a chirp of doubt
a caw of derision cues uneasy
flutters of the flock, buffleheads
suddenly alert. A silent bald
eagle swoops spiraling
a kick of panic, they rise
called to scatter, frantic.
It seems that things are breaking
away. The landscape shifts
earth shaking, heart aching.
Eerie, empty and the lap
of water here where I anchor
settle my electric nerves
though I may wish to fly
I find I’m rooted in relation.
How may I serve you?
Reactions seek ground. Out of
the box confined, away from
the flickering nervous screen
I bow before this glorious
life delightful flow
through me in ways
I cannot say. Silent now
leave the fray. Together
we will find a path
that’s kind. We go within.
Embrace the fear awaiting
I’m with you. In connection
we will hold a space
for what is true
emerging in our humble grace.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by: Conflate, Delightful, Kick and Anchor.

How do we?

Everyone’s been primed by years of popular post-apocalyptic movies/shows, as well as a growing sense of dread and a general intuition that something’s gotta give soon. Please stay calm and let your better nature win out, humans. We can use this opportunity to transcend ourselves.~Caitlin Johnstone

How do we navigate this new territory
so long astray? Our browsing history
composed of questions avoided, rejected
spaces we cannot traverse. We’ve erected
walls of beliefs, each brick of fear
cages us helpless. Still this is the year
we rise above the paradigm, high time
we use heart speech. Abandon greed
capitalism revealed can never feed
our connected souls. Each essential voice
rejoice, we hold the space
receive your unique gift with grace.
We open up, distribute what’s been
hoarded, abundance flow escapes
the sordid hold. This new landscape
revealed, at last we see the web
connecting every living being,
a network respecting what we bring,
how we laugh and cry and love and sing.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Something, Browse, Traverse, Navigate and Astray.

Featured image from One Earth Sangha.

Creation Myths

In the palace we’ve been kneeling
to the flickering blue god
lapping up the dopamine, reeling
unspeakable homage awed, odd
existence we’ve constructed
in our dreams. I’m a white
boomer, cowed, misinstructed
a sacrificial volunteer
because I’m here, I survived
the twists of narrative shifts.
Today the palace walls reveal
a makeshift cabin, cables bare
unravel, down to the wire
dangerously sparking. There
the narrative gap appears
we blink in dissonance and fear:
why are we here? Who wields power
panic-driving in this practiced
horror flick? Didn’t I read this
contrived plot in dystopian schtick?
I turn from this projection, sing
with calm, unwavering I reach
the door, ignore the rich confection
beckoning quest, I feel the trees
rooted drawing spring, the birds
praising what’s real disregarded
too many words, our separation
myths drive us to this. And yet
we freak out when the story shifts.
Here is the opening: dive in.
The world is new now we create
the saving gifts. I’m here
for you in ways we have no clue.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by quest, cabin, calm and the Saturday Stream of Consciousness prompt wire, the unsettling panic descending when the narrative shifts abruptly and the public service announcement: this is the chance we’ve been waiting for to step out of the old paradigm and create connection.

Crack Wide Open

Four black corvids cawing in a tree
wing their wakeup call to me
sitting by the glass, I’m dazed,
my twitter feed fear-crazed
isolated thoughts, judging me for
all the things I’m not. As if a game
of tag, I’m it, the bright sun
dawning round and hot.
I squint. It’s obvious I must
close the window of protest,
wound too tightly I can’t see
the bombs the death planes
with my name emblazoned
we cannot be sane, pray
dissonance will lead the way
right now as discord falls away
I follow the crows ebony
who summon from the throes
of pain, my culture breaking free
the eggshell brittle, shaking me
into a new reality I’m thrown
my messengers have flown.

Soundcloud recording here.

Inspired by Judge, Tag and Isolate.