The only way that the truth will ever set you free,
is when it is your own.
not mine
or hers or his
or the priest's
or the prophet's
not the fired up teacher's
it's that resurrection
the one that heals you
from the bleeding
after it cuts and guts
you and you're living
for the first time
raw and unashamed
wet and covered in
its oxygen reddened blood
drowning in its tears til
you are born once again
this time your chest
heaving, your head dizzy
from this spinning til you
fly for the first time... free
Not so damned if you do, but damned if you don't... but then that's MY truth. ;)
Monday, January 23, 2012
2:31
Is it wrong to wonder
if there is a purpose to life
Is there really a need to endure all
of the pain, heartaches and loneliness
Is there cause at all to
wish to be something
with no cost, pain, or understanding
to ask of life, where is your gift
and then stand bewildered in the
silence of no answer
Is it wrong to question fate
when fate will happen
as it will or won't
How is it, life, that I have naught
but wait and listen for your
lovely song
Is it okay if I forget for a moment
in the face of my own need
the gifts you have already given me
I wait and I listen
for your lovely song...
is that wrong?
There must be a better question
I was a bit disappointed this morning when I realized that (according to some FB posts) I had missed the new moon. The new moon is a promise of hope for us, on which we can cast our fondest wishes. Not that I believe such things, but I do believe in new beginnings and anything that affords me some hope is always a welcome relief.
So I researched the validity of new moon wishes and then the moon's calendar. My hope was to find a magical formula for wishing that would rival the most convincing 100% money back guarantee I'd ever dared to believe. I found some pretty devoted believers who shared their hope with me. The calendar stated that the new moon was at precisely 2:31 pm on 1/23/12. Quickly I glanced down to the corner of my computer screen to check the time. It was the exact minute of the new moon, so I dedicated the next 120 seconds or so to my fondest wish.
I wished for love and affection- the kind I can both give and receive. The kind that will bring us joy, understanding and delicious companionship. A love that will transcend difficulty and make us both better- not farther apart. One that is hungry and thoughtful and generous and definitely sexy. Love that makes living so much better, redefining every taste of every raindrop or tear. One Love that fills us with wonder, not questions.
So I am wishing on every star in the moon-free night... send me my love... it is time.
if there is a purpose to life
Is there really a need to endure all
of the pain, heartaches and loneliness
Is there cause at all to
wish to be something
with no cost, pain, or understanding
to ask of life, where is your gift
and then stand bewildered in the
silence of no answer
Is it wrong to question fate
when fate will happen
as it will or won't
How is it, life, that I have naught
but wait and listen for your
lovely song
Is it okay if I forget for a moment
in the face of my own need
the gifts you have already given me
I wait and I listen
for your lovely song...
is that wrong?
There must be a better question
I was a bit disappointed this morning when I realized that (according to some FB posts) I had missed the new moon. The new moon is a promise of hope for us, on which we can cast our fondest wishes. Not that I believe such things, but I do believe in new beginnings and anything that affords me some hope is always a welcome relief.
So I researched the validity of new moon wishes and then the moon's calendar. My hope was to find a magical formula for wishing that would rival the most convincing 100% money back guarantee I'd ever dared to believe. I found some pretty devoted believers who shared their hope with me. The calendar stated that the new moon was at precisely 2:31 pm on 1/23/12. Quickly I glanced down to the corner of my computer screen to check the time. It was the exact minute of the new moon, so I dedicated the next 120 seconds or so to my fondest wish.
I wished for love and affection- the kind I can both give and receive. The kind that will bring us joy, understanding and delicious companionship. A love that will transcend difficulty and make us both better- not farther apart. One that is hungry and thoughtful and generous and definitely sexy. Love that makes living so much better, redefining every taste of every raindrop or tear. One Love that fills us with wonder, not questions.
So I am wishing on every star in the moon-free night... send me my love... it is time.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Med.itation
Take me to that place where
all I am is free where
speckled raindrops filled
with life, radiant in
their falling stream
Take me to that time when
there are no ticking clocks where
life is but a single breath
dancing in the moment's glow
of wondrous light
Take me to that feeling
that life is but a dream
as we glide within the space
between the raindrops where
love and light shine freely
Breathing in and then out
once again I draw
another high when I find that
place, sweet angels, where
I am love and light
all I am is free where
speckled raindrops filled
with life, radiant in
their falling stream
Take me to that time when
there are no ticking clocks where
life is but a single breath
dancing in the moment's glow
of wondrous light
Take me to that feeling
that life is but a dream
as we glide within the space
between the raindrops where
love and light shine freely
Breathing in and then out
once again I draw
another high when I find that
place, sweet angels, where
I am love and light
It is...
It is in the long shadows within the shade
it waits for me til I call its name
It is grimmest gray as it hugs yearning earth
dowsing parched, withered greens, quenching their thirst
It is explosive light trapped in a singular cloud
unabashedly longing to be bursting out
It is the dark within a dreary, cold night
that reaches for more, as it craves warmth and light
It is rising moon's splendor kissing ocean's still plane
til its rushing and swelling spawns joy's crashing wave
It is spilling your soul into hands cupped with care
that hold it so dear, just let go - and you're there
It is in the long shadows within the shade
I dance madly, gladly, calling its name
It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less
cuz you get what you chase so go follow your bliss
it waits for me til I call its name
It is grimmest gray as it hugs yearning earth
dowsing parched, withered greens, quenching their thirst
It is explosive light trapped in a singular cloud
unabashedly longing to be bursting out
It is the dark within a dreary, cold night
that reaches for more, as it craves warmth and light
It is rising moon's splendor kissing ocean's still plane
til its rushing and swelling spawns joy's crashing wave
It is spilling your soul into hands cupped with care
that hold it so dear, just let go - and you're there
It is in the long shadows within the shade
I dance madly, gladly, calling its name
It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less
cuz you get what you chase so go follow your bliss
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Silent night
The house is so still tonight
No dust bunnies tumbling down the hall
no children's laughter
or wrappers crinkling on the end table
no children are crying
(It's just me and silence when the refrigerator stops its humming...)
I could hear the heat from the candles burning
feel the pulsing of my red hot blood
know the loneliness of sad heart's yearning
see the wavelength of light that fills this room
smell the burning of a will that's dying
taste the fear within your cold, dark tomb
As I touch the silent sounds of
what there is and what is not
beyond the space that's filled with fright
into the place no sound has won
Where two candles joyously burning
two separate flames across the darkened night
two glorious fires, together
in the symphony of silence, light the night
No dust bunnies tumbling down the hall
no children's laughter
or wrappers crinkling on the end table
no children are crying
(It's just me and silence when the refrigerator stops its humming...)
I could hear the heat from the candles burning
feel the pulsing of my red hot blood
know the loneliness of sad heart's yearning
see the wavelength of light that fills this room
smell the burning of a will that's dying
taste the fear within your cold, dark tomb
As I touch the silent sounds of
what there is and what is not
beyond the space that's filled with fright
into the place no sound has won
Where two candles joyously burning
two separate flames across the darkened night
two glorious fires, together
in the symphony of silence, light the night
Missing in Action
Watching a feather ride the draft
Oh how I miss the wind
Listening to the splatter outside the door
I do so miss the rain
Seeing the snow fall softly down
I miss the breathless view
Smelling the lilacs blooming sweet
fragrance sorely missed
Watching the hawk soar overhead
I do not care to follow
Singing a song of words so sweet
I cannot hear the tune
Feeling my heart beat thumping strong
Oh how I miss you, Love
When I blow out the candle, Love, where does the light go?
Friday, January 13, 2012
The moon's light
My waking dream yesterday was about death. Death has been haunting my consciousness lately as I grieve the loss of a childhood love. If I hadn't already been in the reflective state of evaluation as I celebrate my midlife cry, I suspect this could have been a catalyst that could have driven me there.
If you have ever pictured your own funeral, as I have, you may have wondered what people would say about you. My fantastic eulogy would emote that I was caring, loving, creative, and made their worlds a little bit better. Some would even claim that I brought joy to their lives. But...at this point I have committed no monumental acts of radical change, other than in myself, nor have I offered the world anything concrete to perhaps make their lives a little easier; and for this I grieve. When I think of all of the talents I was given and how I haven't done much with them, I think about the sting in my heart when gazing at the unopened Christmas presents still sitting in the family room, unappreciated. Such a shame.
Driving home last night I noticed the cold, sharp stillness of the oh so clear night. There were only occasional cars around so I felt as if I owned the place. Racing up one particular wide-open road I felt like I was soaring. Suddenly as I crested a hill, there it was... the big, heavy, bright moon, barely hanging, just above the horizon- magnificent in its grandeur, in spite of its three-quartered status. Was it just too ripe to rise quickly?
There was a saturation of wonder, I noticed as I continued to drive that it wasn't chasing me tonight- I was following it. It would disappear behind mountains, but as I came around turns, no matter what direction I faced, there it was. Like a toddler who never tires of the clown popping up from the musical box- I was no less amazed with each recurrence of this show, as I chased that big reflective ball home.
Laying in bed, replaying the wonders of the day I found myself once again chasing the question of my death and forecasting the summation of my life. Then it hit me, like the surprise of an enormous globe in the sky, that what I should be driving toward is what will be said of me while I live.
If you have ever pictured your own funeral, as I have, you may have wondered what people would say about you. My fantastic eulogy would emote that I was caring, loving, creative, and made their worlds a little bit better. Some would even claim that I brought joy to their lives. But...at this point I have committed no monumental acts of radical change, other than in myself, nor have I offered the world anything concrete to perhaps make their lives a little easier; and for this I grieve. When I think of all of the talents I was given and how I haven't done much with them, I think about the sting in my heart when gazing at the unopened Christmas presents still sitting in the family room, unappreciated. Such a shame.
Driving home last night I noticed the cold, sharp stillness of the oh so clear night. There were only occasional cars around so I felt as if I owned the place. Racing up one particular wide-open road I felt like I was soaring. Suddenly as I crested a hill, there it was... the big, heavy, bright moon, barely hanging, just above the horizon- magnificent in its grandeur, in spite of its three-quartered status. Was it just too ripe to rise quickly?
There was a saturation of wonder, I noticed as I continued to drive that it wasn't chasing me tonight- I was following it. It would disappear behind mountains, but as I came around turns, no matter what direction I faced, there it was. Like a toddler who never tires of the clown popping up from the musical box- I was no less amazed with each recurrence of this show, as I chased that big reflective ball home.
Laying in bed, replaying the wonders of the day I found myself once again chasing the question of my death and forecasting the summation of my life. Then it hit me, like the surprise of an enormous globe in the sky, that what I should be driving toward is what will be said of me while I live.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Cursed
When I see love whether I watch it in an act of kindness, or see it in the face of a lover being kissed, or hear it in the words of defense or the words of exaltation of one so loved- my heart swells. There is nothing more beautiful to watch, than love. It's everywhere. It is the light in the midst of a caress, argument, hug, affection, kindness, desire, envy, and jumbling tummy.
How can something so beautiful have been learned to be something to be ashamed of? Something shunned, dismissed, erased, invalidated and feared? Love doesn't strip you of security or joy, it fills you with their wonders. The profanity of this insanity...why did you make love a four letter word?
How can something so beautiful have been learned to be something to be ashamed of? Something shunned, dismissed, erased, invalidated and feared? Love doesn't strip you of security or joy, it fills you with their wonders. The profanity of this insanity...why did you make love a four letter word?
Definition of PROFANE
transitive verb
1
: to treat (something sacred) with abuse, irreverence, or contempt : desecrate
2
: to debase by a wrong, unworthy, or vulgar use
Friday, January 6, 2012
Brava
Oh let me be the one
Who fills and moves your sails
The one who thrills your senses
Love that never pales
Let me be the coupling
That conducts your flowing current
The pulse that beats and quickens
The one your yearning dream meant
My heart knew yours
So long ago
It might have been a dream
But then I saw your
Face once more
Among the living realm
Why don't you want to be the one
The one who’d die to move me
The one who craves this radiant vibe
To soothe your soul completely
Oh won’t you be the kiss of g~d
Your lips upon my lips
My sweetest song, like heaven's touch
Strummed from your fingertips
Your heart knew mine
Before, I know
In a different place and time
but when I saw your face in
this familiar place
I knew you’d soon be mine
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