From The Air

Once again I go mobile as my
social nature beckons past
the pain I always knew outcast
the only girl in a boy tribe–
I became a scribe–the earth
sign among the air brothers,
left-handed awkward. My mother’s
despair, I didn’t seem to care.
Round peg rattling around the boxes
which never held securely.
Always toppling out immaturely
at inopportune moments until
today, uphill, I recognize
the convoluted path of my
endurance from the skies.
Pure chance, the window seat
shows the flows I meet
dancing winding reaching touching
water meanders through the clutching
squareness of farm-field plots.
Sniffing a copse,
backtracking for a kiss and on a slow
curve following the movement of life,
round and brimming undermining strife
on my linear track. Looking down,
I see I’ll not take up the slack.
Canyons are carved by running streams
and so I’ll continue riding this jet stream
alive, awake, contained at last
my open heart can hold the past.

Inspired by: Endurance, Social, Go and Track.

Featured image from Steve Hillebrand.

Soundcloud recording here.

Make You See Stars

You fear your heartfelt pain
a maelstrom too turbulent

to be contained, palpable
implacable, you never see

how valuable your sensitivity
hails from your resilient

spirit rising from each family
event that rent you

brilliant star let’s simply say
you wouldn’t be here any other way

like a heaven-sent drum
you come with your black belt

in pain and sorrow, beating
yourself down, dwelling

in hopes of a tomorrow with all
the cards you were not dealt.

Your unobtrusive wings feathering
unseen all the sharp edges

that point you hear listen
I can see you clear

your convoluted path how
you enter the now

take my hand and we
can simply be.

Inspired by: Palpable, Resilient, Heartfelt, Maelstrom and a friend in need with a reluctance to ask for help.

Soundcloud recording 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.

This Is The Path

So much to digest
the buoyant trauma bobbing up
escaping my firm and
constant pressure to keep
this drama contained.
Letting all the content
settle under calm
guidance, a transmission
irradiates the presence,
diamonds formed from coal.
All the dark and fearful
places, shunned, unknown
arise in us. I’m tearful
as I recognize in you
in me, in us, love’s
intelligence, the will
to live, protecting innocence.
This lost and hungry child
in you, in me, in us,
so long exiled, we welcome
now. There is no better
you. The Tao simply includes.

Inspired by: Settle, Buoyant, Irradiate and Guidance.

Listen here on soundcloud.

Echoes Of The Future*

What is the part of me that calls me onto a path?  I believe the part that calls us is the echo of the memory of the future–the reverberation of remembering the future.~Thomas Huebl

The child has learned
to be taciturn.
What can you expect
when the means to correct
her are myriad and cruel?
Enter the Yule.
Does she dare to hope
a little gift will help her cope?

Pain’s duration
is no aberration.
Satellites have filled the skies
with starry lies.
The ground has all been paved.
Have you been saved?
The father asks, her yes
coerced, professed;
the no submerged
unheard yet I am opening
the door, focusing
light in this dark place.
Ah, child, when I wore that face!
Listen, darling, to the calling.
Time itself is falling.

Inspired by: Yule, Expect, Taciturn and Duration and this amazing talk by Thomas Hubl, The Echo Of The Memory Of The Future*.

Listen to this on soundcloud.

Seeing Is Freeing

There is no happily ever after
we can reach, no way

out of here to some secluded beach.
If we can sit and allow—

follow me, I’ll show you how.
This anxious pity tries to knock

me back: a helpless child
forced to say yes.

My new life hack: this fierce
ferocious NO now

in the mix of power and light
what’s so exposed.

Love offers to the dark
and scary places the deep

presence of now
expanding spaces.

Too much solicitude contracts.
The child reacts.

Inspired by: Knock, Solicitude, Follow and Mix and the phenomenally powerful Conscious Healing course I’m enrolled in.

Soundcloud recording here.

Featured image a photo of Makanalua Peninsula, a place of breathtaking beauty with a history of exclusion and fear.

And yet, I can

Half of the bay is iced,
a line straight from shore to shore.

Rippling bright cold on that side.
Frozen still by me.

Last night’s clouds covered the full
moon trying to cleanse crystals

stargazing on my window seat.
The architect of my dreams

is always me. The plight awakening
my soul held for ransom

by these tiny trauma places
obstructing my energy flow.

Ducks dabble at the edge,
perhaps flirting with danger under

this new boundary. Heads pop
up in the ceaseless current.

I’m diving into my inner self
worth, seizing each block

curling my feet and clenching
my hands. Signals to my wise

now—heal me! Love me!
All this young reaching out

turned inward to comfort
a broken heart. You’re not

good enough my poisoned
talisman, intelligent protection.

You’re too much. Truth will not
be received well, not here.

Shut up and survive.
Clutch this imperative: you can’t.

Inspired by: Can, Architect, Plight and Ransom.

Just popped in at the halfway point to say, I miss you, fellow daily writers! The writing is flowing like music, thanks to Lisa Cron’s amazing book, Story Genius: How To Use Brain Science To Go Beyond Outlining And Write A Riveting Novel* [Before You Wasted Three Years Writing 327 Pages That Go Nowhere.] (It works! Yesterday my word count was 38,646 out of my goal of 50K by the end of November!)