Tag Archives: peace

Open Ocean

20 Mar

When I woke up, it smelled like someone was making breakfast.
Some things, I’ll never understand.

I’m not going to cry.

I’ll get up.
Dress comfortably well.
Go have tea and oats.
Organize my life for tomorrow.
Sit, dream and watch people.

If there was a dart to throw at one point of the world
where the flower of dreams blooms,
I could attach a strand of red wool
and chain stitch toward the plotpoint of
where I’ll find you.

But for now it’s tea and oats
and forgetfulness in focus,
shuffling tiny stacks of details
like sand bars to navigate before
open ocean.

And I’ll leave this treasure map
unfixed or finished.
Because finding one’s way
is never smooth nor even
especially when light becomes
more precious than the prize.

January 15, 2018

Mistress Mana

9 Mar


Mistress Mana
waves her sovereign hand,
delivers a crisp scripted
edict of feathered stars
over slope and broken rock.
Her white whisperlaw is read
at every window.
“Today ye shall
make love,
tell story,
wrap your body in blanket, sock,
and pillow.
Eat and drink
by the pyre
of felled oakprinces.
Unlock the heartchest
and play games of chance
with memory.
And when the darkness falls,
ye shall breathe out
onto the blackblue
mirror of night
warmwhite exhaltations
For I am.
I abide.
Even in the silent pause,
between each degree of earth’s turning .”

December 9, 2017


29 Nov


blanket and bundle.
At my back
a ball of breathing
black pillowdog,
a warm cocoon against
the cold coming day.
They say
be happy right now.
Not to wait
or time will run out.
So I am happy for this half
of the bed
that holds me.
And  dream chill stillness
slows the seconds
for the other.

Taking Space

4 Oct


Five out of twenty nine.
As if with each caulked casement
leaving there is more room,
the air itself a rushing
love for lungs to drink.
Each cracked pane, each broken rope, each curling lip of lead
paint wrapped, carted away.
Wavy panes of perceiving
held together by bracing and time,
removed. Each day,
while I’m not watching.
Sometimes you don’t watch.
You lie still
and notice
when the house is opening,
and the dreams are leaking out somehow
like breadcrumbs for the Divine
to follow, gather,
and bring back to your bed
like lovebreath whispers
in the early light.

Quizzing Glass

24 Sep

Her eyes said to the professor,
Why don’t you stop studying me and
be with me.
And then she was grateful
to have become so very
not something buried then
a curiosity for
But like a live oak,
limbs and leaves flush with green,
hung with soft sighing hair,
he was just unable to see
beyond the glass
in his own.

It is Good

13 Aug

We will not let hate win


It is good.
It is good to see and to be seen.
It is good to hold and to be held.
It is good, this heart like a low long river
washing the soul clean to its raw lining
like the side of quivering fish.
It is good to feel the promise in cleanness,
in the sting of what was.
In every broken bit there is one conscious atom
beginning to pull toward the mending line.
It is good to cry, to wet the shoulder, the hand, the sleeve,
let it travel out to salt sea
where the elephantine roll of the darkdeep unknown
will toss it’s misted curl to the sky
and dissolve itself into stillness.
It is behind your eyes, this close fearlove
I kiss your cheek.
You kiss mine.
Both are wet with ocean.
And it is good.

This is for Anyone who has Ever Lost Someone

10 Aug

This is for anyone who has ever lost someone:

You do not own the leaving.
You share loss
because you are loved.
spreads it’s watery wake
like a quilt over a coffin.
Too little comfort over a container
of what
needs answering before it’s buried
to dissolve.
It’s not that people really tire
of your long grief,
a slow low dissonant hum of unraveling.
It’s that the fraying of this patchworked shroud between us
reveals edges of other coffins,
slowly decaying in the corners
of their own heart’s attic.
They’d rather not see.
They’d rather not feel.
You do not have to get over it.
Only wait for there to be
nothing left but holy dust
on the shrine of your soul.
One day a gentle wind
will shift ever softly
and be enough.

On Gratitude. On Faith. On Love.

10 May

Recently, I have been musing about the meaning of faith and the seeds of its growth: gratitude and love. This first public v-log has me wandering through how the writing of this blog and the journey it contains has given me an amazing gift. It’s a bit slow and reflective and I am not promising any entertaining value. But in the telling of it, I discuss treasure surprisingly discovered without a map. I don’t know if I will ever offer one of these again in the future; its personal. But this once felt right.

Be Well.


20 Apr

“All you need is Jesus. He will fulfill all your needs, honey;  don’t you know that?”

“Love yourself completely. No one can love you unless you love yourself first.”

“When you give up the desire, it comes.”

“Accept what is and you will achieve peace.”

“Surrender, and then God will take care of the rest.”

“Love is Universal. There is no difference between types of love. It comes from everyone.”

“Accept people for who they are. Love their imperfections. Be the bigger person and love them no matter how they treat you.”

“You are only alone because you want to be. Nobody gets what they want.”

“They are men. Seriously, grow up.”

“When you aren’t looking, then the right person arrives. Stop Looking. ”

“If you build it, they will come.”

“Maybe be a little less confident. You know, men have fragile egos.”

“When you fix your thoughts, then the world changes. If you look at this negatively then it will be. Try to see the gift.”

“Everything is a lesson. What are you learning?”

“Be grateful. You could be in Syria.”

“All you need is yourself, babe.”

“Each day is an opportunity to start again. Don’t worry. It’s NEVER too late!”

“The only person holding you back is you. If you’d stop seeing the negative then you’d be happy.”

“If you move yourself into a place that feels the way you want to feel, then it doesn’t matter if what you want arrives.”

“Just join a ladies group. You’ll make good girl friends.”

“Suffering is pain times resistance. Make friends with the pain. Be with it. Stop resisting. Look at its texture and then your thinking about it will change. “

. . .said everyone (renunciate or householder)

already beloved of a calling,

of children,

of friends and family

of one other, above the rest.

Sharing the anchor of hands

within the deep fathomed current,

they toss toward me a wrinkled lifering of advice

about the dry dustshadow space in my heart,

an anomalous magnetic pull

bending its own needle toward a something nothingness.

This is the place where you should be

the one I want beside me,

our soul’s wisdom heaped like seed in a sack,

of hope to sow the world.

I’m not looking for completion.

I’m hungry for evolving into more,

swinging free of the pull of this black hole.


I never saw a starving man bow to bless

a dry plate upon which he must blame himself

for there being no bread.

No bread.

No fault.

That’s what Is.

Mercy is not found in gravity.


4 Apr


I am sore

in a thousand different ways,

said the uncurling rope

in contemplation of its knots.


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