rough waves

unsettling

inner weather patterns

passing 

through me

i grasp for a hold

and there is none.

breathing 

deeper

where is the still point?

deeper

below the waves

now, 

dive

now.

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.

falling

everything changes,
for us.

i holds on
why wouldn't i hold on ?
to summer
cool in the shade
making little trips to the garden
for sun drenched cherry tomatoes
The sound of boys playing
Always hungry for more..........

i who fears change,
must grasp and grasp
until
the message gets through,
It’s ok, it’s meant to be this way.

each cell
tenderized
shimmering
receiving
the wondrous play
Of the open hand.

a pale yellow iris unfurls one more surprise blossom
an odd color in the company of falling leaves and ripening seed pods.

fallen chestnuts are bursting their seams.
the mauve field grasses are weighed down by last night's rain.
and the native persimmon is sweet.

the seasonal pull is felt
I’m falling,
down to earth.

october musing

i'm learning how closely
letting go and forgiving
dance,
how they breathe together.

the heart widens
in and as what is.

compassionately
we are moved on.

waking up to the sweetness

i had sight of a memory this morning
one that used to cause me such pain
to remember

one that was birthed out of an earlier time
in order to see exactly what I was thinking
and how i created my experience,
then, then
and now.

in shock, left out, not chosen

this time i could feel laughter rising
of having put myself in this absurdly painful situation
and how every one else played their parts
so perfectly.

waking up to the sweetness
of the honey
dripping
into the fire.

inevitable change, inevitable intimacy

I woke up this morning and knew I am going to write about my time in the cabin.

I trust I will meet all manner of critics on my way to the end of this assignment.

this is what I have to do next.

Easel painting has not been calling me the same way it used to. 

For over forty years it was my way to express my love, to be in love.

I was painting a sycamore from my window, last week, from life. 

It felt like we were letting go of one another, painting and me. 

I was saying thank you for how it has held me so long, it has given me a way to be. 

It may not be enough, I am growing.

I didn't want to grow like this, out of the familiar way of being myself.

when I write, someone is listening.

when I paint, it is just me seeing, listening.

It almost feels unbearable to paint right now, to feel this change in me. 

This was my experience painting the sycamore last week.

Maybe they are the same in the end, painting and writing, so intimate and communicative, too.

I don't know.

but I am called to write now, about intimacy.

I'm calling the proposed book, or will it be one long prose poem.... "time out."

The form it takes will definitely be new for me.

it is so weird, my camera takes a picture, I think it will upload and it disappears. 

Technology is helping me to let go.

It has something to do with the new settings…….

yes, Time Out.

as usual, I am fascinated by change.

and love.