Nursery Rhyming

“Take care of your friends.  You never have to feel lonely ever again.” — Jeroen Raes 1

There are all of these mirrors, you see

and songs that identify head, shoulders, knees and toes,

knees and toes.  We teach

our young to trust appearances

but the dark truth is:

we are mysterious creatures,

a walking bacterial colony

having a human experience.

We never mention our gut flora

although we urge handwashing with antibacterial

soap, proving how little we understand

our actual identities.

Our bacteria crave the foods we are drawn to,

and it is easier to be a slave

to a sugar addict

than to step up and feed

the flora that keep us well.

Can you imagine a board book

for toddlers that describes

the 100 trillion bacteria

that we really are?

I would hope it includes starshine

and waves of energy,

all the invisible lifelines

that make us feel whole,


constellations working optimally,

spiderwebs of connection

and a song about how the doors

of the heart go open and shut

all life long.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: creature


Following Clues

I am learning to honor the inklings,

discern the distant echo of a bell ringing,

feel into this ghostly ancestral triggering.

There are others with me

who share the discomfort of this attentive

focus on our wounds:

the bitter tears unshed,

the trauma calcified inside walls

we constructed so long ago

that we forgot them.

As we learn to trust

our listening hearts

hone to

the tiniest signs:

like the flutter of a bird’s wings on the periphery,

a shadow cast by its quick journey,

easily missed

easily dismissed,

observed with doubt until

painfully claimed

with one firm hammer strike

breaking open

bringing to the light

what was hidden behind closed doors.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: inkling

Following Joy


This morning, while trying to make a silhouette

with an app my firewall will allow,

I strip the color first, but

then I am flung out into space,

ah, the joy of this moment:

he was already spilling out of my arms

stretching out into his glory

my heart expanding

as we felt into our new roles

of grandmother and grandson.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: silhouette

Taking The Leap

This is my teacher:

he wakes me up

to the way I want to be in the world,

crouching with a wild grin

and leaping into my arms,

collapsing in laughter.

And again.

I use that ottoman

to prop my feet,

or maybe, if I desire change,

to plop my butt.

For him, it is a drum to smack,

a diving board,

a precipice to poise over

before leaping into the wild unknown.

There is so much joy

available for the agile mind,

the confident grace, body in motion.

And always, the threat

of pain, and the bruises

to reflect the missteps,

the hard knocks, jumping

without thought, with no plan.

The key seems to be: have faith

that strong resources are always there,

mostly invisible unless you

look through your heart.

Fling yourself into space

but first announce your intention

and know you will be caught —

just as I am there for him,

in each heart-stopping lesson

he blesses me with,

this pure generous

wake-up call.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: agile

Holding Mysteries

In my earliest days, I studied

like the joker in the watchtower:

there must be some way outta here,

too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.”

Piano scales soothed me, even at age four:

diligently creating music and order

in the chaos I called home.

I was the optimist

learning astrology, tarot,

gardening, cosmetology,

philosophy, nutrition,

childhood development,

trying to find a way to see things clearly,

to answer all the burning questions.

And every time I said, I know this,

I fell asleep, sucked back into the confusion.

Now in the second half of my life

— and yes, I fully expect to reach 100,

I study the questions that cannot be answered,

and the answers that cannot be questioned.

I don’t know you

and I can’t ever know you,

so surprise me and say anything.

I study now

the inner space, as wide

as the night sky deep

in primitive wilderness;

the wild genius;

the doors of the heart,

what makes them clang shut,


what makes them spring open.

I study the connections between us,

how I can tune into you,

into the angst of your long-dead great grandmother.

I study mysteries with no intention

of ever arriving at the dead

place of I know.

I look intently at pain

and dark places,

with a childlike wonder,

the joy of asking what is this,

and why?

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: study