Posted in memories

Baobabs…

It’s a memory from my childhood where these portly yet imposing trees dotted the landscape, cracked open the earth, and touched the skies…

baobabsLet us revisit the landscape of all our eternities
traveling through time to where we first began
barefaced against the skies
scribbling on these blank pages of life
in the faint glow of yesterday
remembering who we were back then
when baobabs kept our secrets…

as we carve our name into those memories
into the bark of our dreams
the rocks will be our witnesses
until one day we will return,
perhaps in another life
and we will allow the soil of memory
to quench this longing…

image courtesy of PixaBay

Posted in dance

Rocking the daisies…

rocking the daisies

I lay down with the daisies,
like they were my kin,
against the soft grass
of union,
we knew not sin…

gently rocking me
they whispered
secret vows,
fulfilling a longing,
while the trees quietly bowed…

Combined with their essence,
they foreknew my soul,
they colored me
in loveliness,
my face they did extol…

And as our breath
mingled
in a triumphant dance,
the air blew cold
and scattered,
it was a wild romance…

in the softness
of surrender
I forgot my place,
was this
the euphoria
of a lover’s embrace?

as they enhanced me
with pigment,
and divine accord,
lying on the embankment
I knew
I was simply adored…

Posted in a remembrance

Summoning Spring…

“It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke
spring flowers
Every year about this time I pick these wildflowers in my garden (some call them weeds). It reminds me of my dear blogger friend Natalie https://sacredtouches.com/
This is a tribute to her…
What is it about spring’s promises
that feels so sublime,
is it the fluttering
of birds
or the golden sunshine?

Is it that days
grow lighter
with each breath
or the burden of winter
being put to death? …

perhaps it’s
the wildflowers
that spring into view,
fragrant memories
being gently renewed…

dark days become echoes
quickly forgotten,
when frenzied bees,
gather a profusion
of pollen…

Perhaps it’s
amber sunlight
that wakes me
from sleep,
or budding foliage
too busy to speak…

Me-thinks it’s a whisper,
a graceful homage,
earth’s restoration of a timeless promise,
as butterflies usher in
brighter days,
and every corner
is imbued with praise…
Posted in Me in real life

Baptized in mud…

Lilies of substance

I dressed up
so you wouldn’t see me,
but you saw through
my facade…
you tumbled
into my silence,
like an iridescent god…
on grasslands bent
in mourning,
and the skies
spread out in joy,
I felt my sorrow easing
as I scrambled
from the void…

the trenches
glowed
with lilies,
an abundant treasury,
and from viscid
swamplands,
I heard their reverie…
beckoned by
their aspect,
hidden from prying eyes,
assuaged by
their presence
in mud I was baptized…

Posted in a remembrance

Connections…

“No one knows what has been taken from you
when the silence of absence deepens.”
― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings
love letters
These are
the love letters
that help me breathe,
messengers on the wind
I gladly receive,
in the knowing
you are everywhere,
I inhale
with gratitude,
your constant care…
calling cards
from the skies,
tokens I
immortalize…
Though they crumble
in my hands,
I feel connected
to mystical lands…
sacred memories I hold so dear,
stored as timeless souvenirs…
Posted in Breathing under water

I’m written into the script…

wild flowers in the gardenThese words don’t belong to me,
the song isn’t mine,
I’ve tried to make sense of it,
but I read like a whine…

The tune is damaged,
it’s garbled at best,
my heart has been shattered,
how can I invest?

The future doesn’t know me
though I’m written
into the script,
the resurgence of sorrow
is hard to predict…

So I’ll face the music,
hold onto the wire,
and if they receive me,
I will blend with the choir…

There’s safety
in the shadows
hiding me from view,
in the sweetness of oblivion
in a tangle of hues…

My melody is outnumbered,
wounds will not heal,
but this is the symphony
of me being real…

I’ll quietly rehearse,
and give movement
to the mime,
enroll in the precepts
that teach humans to shine…

but if my strength vanishes,
and I’m caught off-key,
please show me
the cadence
of your humanity…

like wildflowers
in the garden,
almost hidden
from sight,
I bravely reach up,
and transcend
into light…