Dec 30 2022

think i’ll move

into the bedroom
burrow deep into a dream

reminisce with my lost dark side
build long bridges to the past

wander boldly through a labyrinth
of strange rooms

i may redecorate
one corner of my psyche

add some art, fresh journals,
a book on the sibilance of silence

paint a sunrise in each window
moon hung high upon one wall

weave flowers through each door frame
music breathing from the floor

fix tea and toast and nectarines
for every endless meal

watch swallows flitting in and out
bits of sky caught in their tails

think i’ll move
into the bedroom

burrow deep
into a dream

float through brief moments of survival
built on colors from a stream

::


Dec 18 2022

the poet’s manifesto

integrity is honesty in words and actions

damn the game-playing,
word-changing,
hide-and-seek
gladiators

: :

i’ll take the bird singing joy
surprised by each sunrise

the child’s new word
wrapped in giggle and smile

i’ll take the plate washed with love
to complete a good meal

and the call in the night
to remember what’s real

i’ll be quiet and staid
in a world filled with pretense

wrinkled and worn
in the fountain of youth

i’ll walk steps on the path
my own feet have created

humble-quiet and found
through dark forests of pain

: :

i will listen with love
and be your best mirror

shining back your lost song
from a field
sown with grace


Dec 8 2022

ripple effect

your hand trails through water
and the boat down the shore
dips a bow to polaris

and

we all break waves
on sanity’s shore
just trying
to find

direction

::

as the truth
sands us down
to blurred edges


Dec 1 2022

on walking through fire and other pisces promises

being a sagittarius, i’ve never been a water girl. i barely even know how to swim.

but this year, something changed, something shifted, life delivered the cruelest of blows, and suddenly, everywhere i go, i’m drawn to water.

it’s a mystery, but one that makes me smile in weird ways at odd times. perhaps it’s the desire to float away from this pain i’m standing here holding, held in place by roots wrapped hard round my feet, refusing to budge until spring.

and i’ve been thinking a lot about anger.

the way we’re told, especially as women, that we’re not allowed to be angry, at life, at other people, at circumstances beyond our control. that we should be nice, accepting, nurturing, we should let it all go. that it’s our job to be happy every minute of every day.

i disagree.

there are times when anger is the only answer, when anger is deserved. when anger is the flame that keeps your light from going out.

i keep thinking back to the old “just smile and look pretty” maxim. the one so many of us were conditioned to follow as little girls and young women. the one we’re still held to as grown women, by those who want to fit us into those little, quiet, smiling boxes.

anger is a normal emotion. it’s part of life, part of living. it’s a catalyst for change. it’s a response to injustice, to intentional harm, to tiny daily abuses, to the constant squelching of basic human rights.

being told i shouldn’t be angry ends up being part of what makes me so angry.

one of my goals in life has long been to not grow bitter as I grow old. and it’s still one of my goals. but you know what? we have every right to be angry at intentional harm. i can be angry and see the beauty of a lone leaf clinging to a tree. i can be angry and cry at the beauty of a sunset. i can be angry and open my heart to all the world has to offer. i can still look out my window and smile at the titmouse cocking his head at me as he feeds.

we always want to see things in black and white, and we always think anger is red.

but i’m holding mine in a circle of blue, that place in a flame that holds the most oxygen.

one of these days, i’m going to use my anger to walk right through the fire that’s burning in my heart. and then i’m going to march right past all those rules til i reach the wide open shore, and cool my feet in the healing forgiveness of water.

perhaps that will cauterize my anger. crystallize it, temper it, transform it. but i shall always refuse to drown it.

you will hear me howl and the faint crackle of tough skin.

when that happens, i hope some part of you will smile.