Saturday, January 31, 2015

feeling good



I’d kiss you but you’re not here
I’d play solitaire but my hands are busy
I’d stop
Like that
And longer
Because I can’t resist the pull of such love
In my belly.

It feels good to be alone
with the Beloved One,
No telling what a threesome will feel like.



 photo artist Ember Fairbairn




Persephone





Persephone is alive and well
Able to travel here and there
The queen of the underworld.

Her innocence sacrificed
she gained the kingdom of her body
No longer fearing its limitations
Or its shadows.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

home fires


not one of a kind
woman is all of one kind
hearts blazing in truth
lighting fires in every home
the daughters pick up on the heat
the sons stand in awe, eyes down
but hearts beating whispering
yes!
stand up speak up
you are right
in defense of life
no boychild would follow a father's footsteps
where feet had not been scorched by the lie
thousands upon thousands upon thousands
women walk forward as one whole
whispering imagination to the leaves
the daughters learning the language by listening
by loving
the trees respond
this song of women together
women together
that is the fruit, the harvest.

how to stop the trafficking
the greed
the wars?

keep singing
connect the threads
the web of light grows stronger
men who were boys know the song
they begin to hear its whisper
at work
in the factory
in the machine
it keeps them up at night
whispering to their imaginations
that they are trees, too.

soon they step out under the moon
alone and safe
knowing what is right
they give themselves permission
to recreate the world into a safe home for all.


#WritingRaw
prompted by Passion (1980)
and by Directed by Desire. The Collected Poems of June Jordan.

Sunday, January 25, 2015

a poem



stay low 

connected in the clay

trust the dark cave of your beginning.

stay close to the earth

breathe deep and easy

release the concern for right and wrong.

to be a poem requires no explanation

you've got a taste for it

keep it on your tongue

roll it around in your mouth

and enjoy it.


knowing the taste of your origin,

be the mystery body and the earthen bowl.

bleed hot like a volcano

ripple gently like the stream

roll strong like the ocean

dew laden, the morning grass kisses your feet.







#WritingRaw
Prompted by N. Waheed's poem visceral

Sunday, January 18, 2015

reflection in the dark



inandinandin
reflecting 
anew
in the dark of the moon 

my inner marriage vows 
were printed on my hand
it took until now 
for the ink to reach my heart



photo credit: Brenda Van Ness 2006

winter spring



i woke up again
this morning
and damn if it doesn't feel like spring
in my heart.


1.18.15

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

close to home







"It is critical that we feel worthy."
Flora Aube
The Heart is a Portal for Beauty and Light


And the heart is a portal for truth!
Today, I understand the truth and power of this word - critical.

It is absolutely critical that we feel worthy.

I did not feel worthy for many, many, many years.
I was too critical, of myself.
And yet I painted and I showed paintings.
I ping ponged between feeling the best and the worst.
I could not bear to see what I painted for long.
And I destroyed a lot of painting.
The painting on this postcard is from a small exhibit of my work at Lord Fairfax Community College, some time before 2006.

The name of the exhibit was "Close to Home."
I destroyed the painting, let it go to hold another painting,
because no one "wanted" it.

It is clear for me that I could not own it myself.

The woman standing at her home is me.
And today I can see she is also the goddess Lakshmi, pouring golden blessings from her hand.
And I can see and feel Hecate dressed in black even though I don't know much about her. As the asteroid Hecate she is a dark moon goddess who stands at the crossroads between the visible and invisible worlds. She can bring the need to live in day to day reality home to us.
If I had not reacted in fear to the strength she exhibited, I could have learned from the forms that I intuitively painted and felt worthy of the mirror they offered to me.

Ah, now a memory arises. I painted that painting from an old photo I saw of a local woman standing in her garden.

I forgot. 
I was trying to remember myself through her. 

It is no mistake, that I forgot 
and that I remember, through women,
who I am.

I have been able to hear my sister Flora and understand her work as my heart opens, no longer afraid of our differences or the certainty she shares in her process.
I have remembered who I am through the circle of Awakening Women Institute, led by Chameli Ardagh, no longer afraid of the multitude of forms and gifts woman embodies.
It is no mistake that I have come home again, returning to a home studio after three years of being in a group space at River District Arts.
And it is no mistake that I am writing this morning for Wild Woman Rising, a piece in response to Mel Shapcott's question/prompt - where is your heart?

My heart is close to home.
And home is family and a few friends, mountains and woods and rivers.

It is critical to feel worthy of love and beauty
then it rushes to "curl up at your feet" as Franz Kafka once wrote -
in his own way.

I am closer to home every day, in my own way, in this body.
In every moment that the gap closes, I am simply home. Period. Present.
In this awareness of the flow of life and death, I am home as life itself, as Woman.

It is critical that we feel worthy of our way of being and creating and living.
May you be home in your way.

There is work to be done and celebrated.
It is critical to know,
where is your heart?