A spiritual practice is a generator of light. The light needs to come in on all levels.  We need to ask: where do I clearly say, it is happening “out there”?  We all create the world.~Thomas Huebl

I feel inspired to listen
to the song of yesterday, the light
spilling into cracks, exposing
me in new and startling ways
of being. I cannot hear those words
again, they will arrive anew as
sun and gentle rain, each moment
of spring leaping to luxuriance
the bursting bud a lead-in, once upon a time
in the narrative shift
and I am fluid
as I’ve always been
seeping through my self-made
traps through deep karmic shade.
I arrive belonging.
I bloom essential.
I sing and sing and sing
and if my voice reaches
dark places I’ve planted
in you, I bring light
I am a prayer
in the connected field
right now
this step
now this
the way love reveals.


Dark Thoughts

I have no doubt that, if the attack on Dr. Ford was as bad as she says, charges would have been immediately filed with local Law Enforcement Authorities by either her or her loving parents. ~ President Donald Trump, accused by at least 21 women of sexual misconduct

When I sit in silence,

tears slide down my taciturn

cheeks. Resignation looks like

this. I’ve turned from the outward

path to embrace my soul-

growth, and the pain

is widespread and deep.

There is a killer on the loose,

and he is watching.

If you say one word,

your life will be over.

Huddle and weep, weakling,

but quietly, I do not want

to hear one single

sob from you,

do you hear me?


I asked for this: I want to

enter the next level

of awakening with relationships,

finally exhausted by this confusion,

the sense of threat and

feeling used, giving way

more than I ever receive,

stuck in a poverty

far-reaching, like a swamp

that sucks and slurps

in every direction ominous

peripheral ripples.


The light is too intense;

all of my shadows are revealed

like real monsters

that jump from the closet

when the uncle comes to stay.

He and his opulent wife

who scolds my fright

before words

It’s not nice to talk so.


The spiritual teacher tells me

that life wants to live, so why

do I want to end mine? This child

entrenched in the shadows

is protecting me in her odd

quaint way, because speaking out

exposes me and the killer

is watching. Relational space,

the place of growth, is tainted.

Better to die

than relive this, she is convinced

and her voice is shrill

and panicked, deeply personal

as she grabs the wheel.

Inspired by: Personal, Taciturn, Opulent, Stay, Quaint