writing raw

this poem slipped out
in between the gentle wind
and the moon light.

writing raw
is like a plumb line
a fishing line
down into my pool
not seeking but being
the open hand receives
the golden ball.

breaking the surface
the words,
carrying their images
from the rich silt of the deep bottom,
rise for air
for voice
for breath
to be heard.

moon sense

moon sense

I can see the women
connected beyond a doubt
in love
nothing missing
fullness
more than enough
for the daughters
for the sons
for the men
what would it take to see it again
now, here
in this place?

women have to have their own place
to remember
to release
to receive
to remember
to receive.

women's depth is lit by the moon
her day lit by the sun.
in the depth she finds the wholeness
to bring forth
what women would do
if they never doubted where the moon lay
before receiving and reflecting the light of the sun.

inspired by Julie M Daley's guiding moon speak
and the full moon in taurus kissed by venus
november 7 2014

moon-shined and belly laughing

I feel I can be heard underwater
my wild heart language
rises from under the sea
reverberating like sonar
its powerful song.

this never before heard
powerfilled
lovefilled
no doubt about it
woman's voice
picks up the beat of the forever song
of all women.

what a woman feels must be heard
sooner
rather than later.

now is a good place to begin, singing
singing the soul of woman
divine
dark
raw
awakening
moon-shined and belly laughing.


inspired by words of Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes

i save the blackend berries

i save the blackened berries

the dark walnut
transmuted by spirit
its essence distilled with spices and ginger
is fragrant
and black.

a compact seed
holds the memory of the reddest of red berries.
impossibly red and full
once.

do you remember
or do i for you?

making a place of honor at the table
to the aged ones
as their spirited dance goes on.

reading the leaves

Reading the leaves
(inspired by words of another poet, Cecil Collins)

everything is speaking
to one another
grasses listening
clouds reading the leaves
it's a joy filled tone poem.

I can feel it, too
my words are taking on the form
all this has given and received
for ever and ever.

bones hear the wind
on its way down the hollow
to read the leaves
to dance their message
through our hearts.

my heart bursts to hear the color of this language.
what a song!

love notes

my husband taught me to write love notes
but they were all on paper
too much love or longing to bear
we couldn't share
enough

so we gave ourselves this distance
necessary to come closer to love
to be touched by the flame illness carries
to breathe clay open.

we meet somewhere called the heart
a landscape
crossed by three roads
3 sons
young men
learning to love
without needing to rely on notes
left on the kitchen table
to be read,
alone.

they are learning to bear the heat
of love's flame, too.
three
four
five made a loving family
wild with creativity.

there is no right way
to write
or live
love notes.

breathing the clay open
being breathed, open.




inspired by John O'Donohue's poem "love notes"
(c) Barbara Heile

inside the inside

it is dusk
the lights of the world soften
the door to the temple closes behind me
its quiet envelopes me.

not distracted by the imagery others express
I can see what I see
I can see what I feel
I can hear what I hear.

in the stillness of the dark interior
my own body alights
the strings of my own lights begin to flicker
they are real to me
I become real to me
I am the great poem
that I am.

I smile at you from this place
where I stand
in love.