garden metaphor exhausted

5 May

I’m letting the root rot open to the air.

holding the shovel at bay,

not ready (yet) for the tender hug

of mulch.

Dirt under the fingernails for days.

The smallest of shifts felt

while I trace a line

between self-indulgence, fertilizer,

and truthful, detached seeing-

walking the rows at sunrise.

 

The birds’ songs and chirps

an invitation to now

to breath

to exposure of even the slightest

inkling of maladjustment,

browning leaves

wilting old growth –

(loved

even so

on her way out).

Meeting needs

as they arise

in the garden outside

and the garden within

is enough.

The world is allowed to die back,

so paradise (undergrowth) can be exposed.

 

 

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too too much (or as my daughter says, extra)

13 Apr

In days of distancing,

my body still

leans in.

Even though the space

is not breached,

I bridge the gap.

Forgive me

as I wonder

about you

at the edge of your shell,

counting the rings,

rolling you over,

tapping your belly

with a stick.

It is no use to tone it down;

the desire is too strong in

the ease of shared moments

while this body

at this time

today, every cell tingling alive-

breathing easy!

For us all.

My reach is forming still

in the field where we meet

beyond any possible harm

except love, that destroyer,

uncompromised

by any contagion.

Bless my forward heart

and join me as soon as you are able;

I’ll still be here,

grinning like the fool,

waiting–ready lava

here to there

magma joy joining us.

Found we are in sameness

recognized

amplified

into motion

in these hands.

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Clarity on the Mission of this Seedling

29 Mar

Oh learning,

may it never end;

how could it?

There is a sudden clarity this morning,

that I was made to confuse the most literal

beauties that god created.

It is very very good

to give creative writing assignments

with vague directions

to STEM students.

My clarifying emails

only confuse them further

because with good reason

they try to check the temperature

of the water

before jumping in the deep end,

unlike me, who flings myself

into confusing mystery

before the instructions are done.

We have so much to offer each other!

Love me in my frustration

when I have to start over

after leaping too soon.

Also love us

who shiver at the threshold

of just give it a go, rolling our eyes.

Together we fill the color wheel

meeting where somehow

purple bleeds into red.

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The Sweetness of Invisible Comfort

17 Feb

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longing is a secret door

8 Feb

We only need to long

from our lower bellies

and our furnace hearts,

not from the jumpled frenzy of our thoughts.

Each moment

is the longing for breath,

and blood in veins

to carry what the breath brought in –

to keep us alive to long some more.

 

However, we are thinking animals

who have wallpapered over desire

with complex patterns.

We’ve forgotten where

impulse

comes from.

At the bottom of all complexity,

we can codify.

Tell me, is this list accurate?

Humans desire:

  1. to keep on breathing
  2. to pleasure the flesh
  3. to distract from the horror that comes from knowing we will die
  4. to keep on breathing

 

However,

breath will end; it will.

…

(enormous, this!)

…

Then and only then,

desiring the air of another realm

will pull us out of this life —

and though I can not prove anything to you,

I practice breathing and ending breath both;

for when my moment comes,  I desire ease.

I imagine our work on this larger breath can be gifted

to whomever needs it ~ when.

Use it with my blessing,

for I love you

in this breath.

 

 

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now that my tongue knows no blue

5 Feb

a salty song

around my shoulders

wraps me in a harmony

of thirds.

Love like the wind

needs no introduction,

no permission from my parents

to bow on a knee

with a ring.

I’m sniffing yellow

bursts of instant knowing.

I can be entered by the sun

in penetrating ways –

the passing through of each photon

registers on my richter spine

of sway – I offer my belly for a rub.

Hear this felt truth —  I know no bounds.

What enters me

is entered by me

as it passes on,

an exchange without end.

Ever echoes the fervored beat

I dance

eternity

for now

a textured shadow on my retina

curve

later thinning out on the curve

of expansion

among other all-

perceiving BEings

returning

to our agreed

upon spot

no one

need know

but love.

 

 

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somewhere along the way

1 Feb

instead of keeping on

with the human interaction experiment,

I started saying no

and dropping out of the game.

It was so gradual,

I didn’t notice when self-care

turned into hiding.

Separate became a theme song,

playing on repeat

on the radio in my head.

Prone felt better than upright,

cozy felt better than cold,

alone felt better than awkward,

and predictable became a slow slide.

The blood began to thicken.

I told myself that I was refusing

to be food for the energy suckers.

What’s new?

I’m ankle deep at the surf’s edge

where

the water is cold,

the air is worse,

but the alternative is only for the bears,

and only in one season.

Spring seasons return,

and probably will again,

but I won’t wait

for it to come to me.

Motion is required

for the body,

but more so, for the mysterious heart,

which can’t be met

until I show up.

 

 

 

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