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.

 

Featured image from Steve Hillebrand.

 

Invited To Inquire More Precisely

“A new manner of fashion I’d found,
And the world seemed to smile all around”~from Alice Blue Gown by Joseph McCarthy.

An overflowing nose at nap time prompts
a tall pile of pillows. We lean.

I need to cry for Mama, but his throat
is just too sore. And so I sing.

Tuning in to simmering feelings.
Tell me if I get it wrong, I say.

He’s quick to instruct, she is MY
mama, so I shift the point of view.

I sing a minor key of feeling sick
and sad and needing Mama who’s so far

away.  Hitting the sadness button
his face screws up, grief erupts.

I justify making him cry now
unstuck, releasing, being heard.

Giving silence and a hug. His sobs
fierce and quick until a winsome smile,

brave and quivering, he nestles closer, says,
Now sing my song again. Sleepily

as I present leftovers: the tight jaw
and throbbing temples until we breathe

in dreams, and all the germs come into
the light, the room, the planet in song.

Inspired by: Justify, Leftovers, Manner, Winsome and a three-year-old grandson with a head cold. (And Alice Blue Gown charted #1 in 1920.  My mother sang a different version à la Judy Garland “and in manner of fashion, I’d frown, and the world seemed to smile all around.” I like the original much better!)

We In Tune

Feel the blessing of the ancestors
life living through the family

tree. And bless the trees, flowing
love and life and light. Outside

the boxes that hold us in the
desperate drive for cash–

breadcrumbs leading into darkness
where the masters keep us

vapid, blind, deafened
to each others’ cries–far

from these nightmares we call
reality, reciting obediently

schooled from our earliest days
when we only want to go

out and play, dancer answers
to the proper question:

Who are we? An outlawed
fungus clues. The teachings

I seized in my childish frantic fear
run me like clockwork and worse

guide my descendants. I can’t
hold any longer what chokes

my voice. What if 7.7 billion
people speak the truth?

I am here in sacred space
while the demolition begins.

Alert, awake during this new
gestation. Through the dust

and debris of the empire’s collapse
all the dark emotions rear

like panicked horses. The
dismantling goes deep.

I want to fight, to cling
to the disease I know,

dark entity holding sway
simply a house of cards

when my rising power
sings yours, beloved.

Inspired by: Entity, Vapid, Fungus and You Are A Song by Mirabai Ceiba.