Cross Purposes

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. ~ Lao Tzu

Even though our hearts are

petrified by fear

calcified in resistance,

I hold hope for our reunion.

I start by issuing my apologies

like passing out leaflets

on the street.  Intent to replace

every stone

I’ve carelessly carried

from its own destiny

for a second’s pleasure.

Seeing now how I’ve moved

through the world, unaware

of the damage of my passage,

the blind disruption

of my collector’s

pretentious sentiment,

incognizant

even a rock’s right

to be where it is.

Still now

I halt here.

Breathe.

The first step

of my new journey

bends my curiosity

to your inner world, the one

I’ve ignored for so long,

absorbed in my own pain.

Dropping the story, finally

present for your agony

on these parallel paths

you’ve sworn will never cross.

Inspired by: Hope, Sentiment, Leaflet and Petrified.

Saved By The Bird

Bluejay scree-jeer from deep

in the oak has been

guiding my daily walks, unseen.

But today, as I consider

love by the silent lake,

her mate answers

three fierce bursts

a red-shouldered hawk mimicry.

And at last he’s revealed

flying to her leafy cover,

framed in blue-feathered flit

of blazing urgency.

See me.

This is how we emerge,

shaking off the dark

dreams hypnotizing our dread.

Calling to each other from the green.

We arise from the captive seats

fronting the flimsy platform,

its shaky construction revealed,

the shoddy actors flinching from

our bright seeing.  The dominoes

— so long to set up —

in the blink of an eye

falling

like fear

when love finally

embraces the shadows.

The doomsday invitation

flutters to the ground.

We grind it into dust, compost

for the rich soil

of our transformation.

Love’s the catalyst

breaking open the rugged terrain

of this perilous paradigm.

Changing the channel

at last, we heed

these seeds

planted at birth

flourishing

even while the moonlit

nightmares handcuffed

and blindfolded our hope.

They can’t hold us,

they never could.

We open our hearts

and sing to our fellow dreamers.

 

Written for #OctPoWriMo Day 8, Love. And inspired by Moonlit, Rugged, and Silent

 

 

 

The Magnetism to Light

That tumultuous energy rises up

and naptime is over.

He’s wide awake and oh,

such passionate overwhelming

joy and utter despair.

His older brothers are exhausted

chasing the escapee

— he’s fast and committed,

there’s no hesitation to meet

this wild and wonderful world.

Inspired, I feel the tug

an invisible cable connecting

our resplendent hearts.

The enthralling blaze

burns away time,

surmounts the past

and flings us into the present.

And we’re running

with no care for the sudden

scraped contact with sidewalks,

the reddening flesh that surely

will bleed but now

we pick ourselves up

again and embrace

this vital force,

the life that wants to live

bursting through our cells

calling, come on, Bibi, let’s go!

And I’m here, my darling,

filled with gratitude and awe

by your two-year-old healing prowess.

 

 Inspired by Cable, Resplendent, Enthralling, Surmount

Reaching Consensus

Ceaselessly she paces

until the sound of her passing

weaves the tapestry that holds me.

An energy web, too circuitous

to perceive, a cage

watched patiently outside of

time. I beg to be turned

and she sets aside

so much frustration

— but I feel

this tight bloated belly and

the band drumming

at my temples. I can’t meet

her eyes, scurrying

panicked, sure

that I’m missing

some piece

— have I dropped it?

Impelled by this imperative

to complete the puzzle,

the laps,

the movement

without a map

or even a clear sense

oh, who is the mouse

who is the wheel

and who is watching?

Inspired by: Tapestry, Consensus, Energy, Circuitous

on the cutting edge

don’t mock the purple flowing skirt

it highlights my silver hair  and i’m proud

of the intuition you call witch skills

but beyond the show

is the real elder’s journey

i must connect with the teeming

shadows of my past all

the renegades in my lineage

who’ve been inspiring me

to act like a jerk and abandon

religion sweeping dogma like dirt

loosened every day from the hard-

packed floor

i pause in my efforts

to look out the eco-friendly

bamboo-woven walls my only

block to fresh air sunlight

and wicked insects i’ve been

here before

with less understanding and zero

compassion measuring myself

with fierce cultural precision

all the things i’ve tried to flee

sitting in judgment

from deep places i carry this

weight into the sunlight

here is the way

i show up for you

bringing to light these gaping

wounds debriding with surgical

skill and a shaman’s heart

for it is clear that i am removing

unhealthy tissue from our collective

interconnected bodies carving

the contaminated until the blood flows

cleanly chosen bloodshed

to relieve you from spilling yours

for corporate greed i’ve chosen

my tribe i choose you

 

Inspired by: connect, renegade, inspire, elder

Who’s that lady?

 

I am that nondescript neighbor

walking the dog everyone knows.

Nobody recognizes us

as we stroll

under the cerulean sky,

our tender hearts hidden,

our passions reined

by our mindful deliberate pace.

 

Inspired by: nondescript, neighbor, tender, cerulean

What’s Worth Defending

You had to stand in line to hate him. – Hedda Hopper

Once upon a time, I would have dissolved

into helpless tears much later, encircled 

only by my mistreated ancestors.

Today I can’t find my boarding

pass as I join the queue and 

I’m beyond vexed, searching

through meaningless bits of paper

while the crowd jostles and 

presses until I whirl in fury.

“Do NOT press that against me!”

And the entire line shocked

into silence turns in rabid

fascination to listen to his mumbled,

“I didn’t mean to make you

uncomfortable,” which I reject

in my most — I mean, I gotta say,

freaking fantastic 

modern embodiment of Pele —

lethal voice everyone cranes to hear,

“I’ll knee you so hard that tomorrow

you’ll still wish you didn’t

have that cock.”  And I catch

the eye of a huge man

in front of me who is so 

here for me, and gesture

grandly, “Please go ahead

of me, try pushing your

self against him.” 

And to the sidestepping

pervert — I mean, literally protecting 

himself now with arms crossed 

and lowered, I hiss, “I have three

brothers, don’t think I won’t.”

And there are women with their

husbands who are shocked,

but others clap slowly

and firmly, declaring themselves

resources, sisters-in-arms

who have fought this battle

so I go back to my search,

heart pounding and so damn alive,

knowing they have my back.

 

Inspired by: DissolveEncircleVex, Modern

 

reconsidering reality

Victims and perpetrators at times share, at a deep soul level, the experience of their shared horror, and subsequent generations may incorporate one or both aspects of that experience. ~ Francesca Mason Boring

A constellation….perspective…can find solutions to the unknown aspects that are holding the problem in place. ~ Diane Hetherington and Elizabeth Hostetler

She is decolonizing reality, brave

heart and I worry, cautious — is my poem itself

appropriation?  You see, I drag

along all of my family trauma

accompanied by my ancestors

white on white

trudging across this societal foundation

of greed.  It reaches far back

with glorified pedigrees, the kind that gloss

over humane treatment.  Freedom dispensed

as long as the state is secured

by spying and infiltrating, peremptory

strikes to protect the bottom line.

 

When I was 13, scornful of my parents’

ill-formed beliefs, searching for truth,

maybe I could have thrown off the shackles

of believing the system is a good one.

Closing the pages of the history that

erased the atrocities, ceasing to

celebrate the discovery of millions

of people alive and well before

being claimed.  But the openings

in those days were LSD trips and the rest

of the journey beyond that gate

lost in grateful dances

with psychedelic deadheads.

 

Still colonized, chanting old lyrics

preformed structures of thought

to preserve the coffers of the very rich

and keep the rest of us enslaved.

And yet, here she is, singing

in fragments and tweets, despite

the brutal erasure of her culture,

her language, her spirit guides.

And I am a grandmother, living

on the unmarked bones of her people

and her guides bring their medicine

daily, singing and hooting and tweeting

and who else is listening?  The dead

 

decolonizing reality, She is

brave and i am finally ready

to erase my claims and reveal

it’s not i did this, i am doing

this journey is our

Reality, she is decoloniZing

you are appRopriately

afraid.  sing bravely, deer heart

Inspired by: Spying, Dispense, Freedom, Humane, Handle

Distracted by Niggling Lies

As I write, highly civilized human beings are flying overhead, trying to kill me. ~ George Orwell

I find zest in the early hours

when my narrow mind — having opened

in darkness, is soothed into spaciousness

by dawning meditation.  Insights diving

like swallows gathering insects

to feed demanding nestlings, rich

rewarding as if everyone has left

intricate dreams airing in plain sight

for me to marvel over.

Midmorning is humbled 

by atrocity, the space painted over

deliberately by news reports

parroting subtle lies with so much

gloss and poise — Orwellian doublespeak:

War is peace.  Freedom is slavery.

But love is easy.  It requires

no frames, no jockeying for position,

no branding.  If we can only sit here

in silence — shhh.  Let go

of our stories, the history we’ve

memorized, the right

and the wrong of each other.

Turn off these incessant screens.

Let’s leave the safety

of the porch and walk

barefoot in the grass

and simply breathe.

 

Inspired by: Zest, Love, Atrocity, and Porch

Look Into The Souls

The family is the nucleus of civilization. ~ Will Durant

Who is willing to face this movement?  Who dares to take this path?  I look around and I know myself moved by another power. How are you?  Did you come along with us on the path to success?  Together with many, to the right and to the left of you, and behind you?  And some who walk ahead? ~ Bert Hellinger

The very first time is always

frightening.  Burping and nauseous,

headaches and back spasms,

coughing, breathless: the ancestors

all contact you. A few are jumping in,

waving your hand, choose me!

While others are bowing your

head in shame and silence, covering you

with a shawl in this frigid air

suddenly calling forth goosebumps.

You’ve stepped into the room;

there’s no going back,

and the changes you expect

are miniscule compared to the heart-

wrenching nutcracker experience

that awaits you.  This is a family

constellation, and whether it is yours

or you are standing as a representative,

the issues raised are completely

personal.  They touch you

sometimes like nails screeching 

a chalkboard, or a Tibetan singing

bowl allowed to resonate for long

minutes, dropping deeper

into your cells as you ring

along.  You could feel hands

choking the life out of you.

You may collapse in fear.

Tears or wails or the darkest

silence, all available here.

And embrace it wholeheartedly

but be warned: this is not 

a magic remedy.

The insights here illuminate

the steps you must take

toward your own healing,

sloughing through the muck,

sweat dripping down your face

to mingle with your tears.

It’s never easy, it’s always essential

hard work, but now you know

your ancestors have your back,

gleeful and proud, giving you a push

and cheering you on

past the obstacles that held them

like fossils preserved in sticky resin.

And you walk toward your progeny

with all your amber jewelry a shining

inheritance, the patterns you’ve

uncovered highly polished now

in your daily practice.

Inspired by: Practice, Contact, constellation, expect, nucleus