Merging Galaxies

When one door closes, another one opens, but where the new door opens might not be immediately obvious.  You may need to be energetic, persistent and ingenious to find the new door.~Rob Brezsny

Today I wake to the challenge to see
this body, frozen trauma legacy
generations of alimentation
like an iceberg unreachable whose melt

threatens the world I’ve constructed, denounced
with every finger-pointed scorn pronounced
ungrounded, unsound, all imbalanced.
The door is firmly closed. How will I bounce

weighted with ancestral chains, yoke unseen?
The patterns I have fed don’t nourish me.
The keys, my beliefs, prisoners in time
rattle my fragmented cages. I scream.

And gently with precision you meet me.
You hear the shadows talking and we see.
In the deep listening of now this heart
coherence, a steady flame, thaws living sea.


Daily Practice

As if my filters dissolve instantly, a great
blue heron appears on the estuarine

shore chased by killdeer who stage
a drama, feigned trauma to engage

audience participation. Huge blue-
gray wings flap stork-leg past the trap

location, ignoring the act of injured
screaming bird, who leaps to attack

a new scene, and I’m laughing
quietly, light bursting and gleaming

through my hair and skin beaming
I tune in, twinkle in warm

wrinkles, my intention set
to investigate my hard-headed ways

walk in the question of the questions
I don’t yet see, the ones which carry me.

The field resounds, bird sounds
and fiddleheads invited by the breeze

dancing fluidly. As presence gifts
this calm elation, illumination

of the shadows of society
opens my hands

grounded in the power that commands
my being here now.

All my chips are on the table
I’m so heavily invested, enabling

angry and sad and afraid
unable to digest the mess I’ve made.

Until today.

Each fragmentation a delicate morsel
–home delivery at my doorsill

leading me to claim
what I abhor and dare not name.

There is no separation.
What appears is simply my education.

The patient fishing bird suddenly swoops
rewarded with its wriggling food.


The Way Through

I wonder how I can guide my own child to embrace the night and understand that without darkness we are not just incomplete … we fail to dream.~Bear Guerra

We are here to integrate
the intractable voices poised
on the cliffs of their deluded
truths as if one unshifting
ground can be found
We sit
with open hearts for this.
Create a connected field
beyond the heady stuff
our clear intention to embody
and presence, yield attention
to the fragmented shrapnel
and shards. Summon the bards
and artists, terrified and grieving
each perceiving a unique way
give us all room to say we create
weaving the sounds perched here
on the groundswell of fear
composing in the deep
listening love brings to
the planet’s emerging sound
farewell to the death knell
here in the heartland
we are all well.