Wanderling❁

when light leaves

 

 

---

not who

but why 

am I, and

why do I run from the screeching

hellish design of my own mind

only to find the road dark and long

and you farther

not why

but what

makes me quiver 

what fear keeps me

from embracing the shadows alone

and singing them the song I know 

they long to hear

not what

but when

will I remember

when evening comes to take from me

my sanctity and love

it is I

that still remains

it is I

lost in the night and I am enough

---

 

photo: sunset at Cayo Costa Island, Florida, october 2017

a prayer for woman

 

 

---

in these sun-painted rooms

where light feeds the shadows, through

the hands of stained glass and devotion

in these whispering houses of God

I am drawn to the images of woman

woman with child,

child holding hands,

and the voices of my sisters

as the men in front, stand

and I await

to offer a candle and humbly inhale

the salvation,

the light for the female, rumored and damned

bringing candle warmth to my lips

the lids of my eyes

undeserving, if I dare speak

undeserving, if I dare open them too wide

my quietness in the wake

of resurrected power, once sacrificed

 before the eyes of a secret mother

my quietness is the only sin, and the

the belly I carry is the hearth

of humanity yet to come

I have never been outside of God's creation

my sex, breathing life into the still images

of woman, woman and child

awaiting the undoing of man

being God herself

the creator and the creation

the world and the heavens

quiet and patiently, praying

---

 

photo: St. Christopher Chapel, Great Ormond Street, London, may 2017

athena

 

---

are you so fiercely at war

with your pieces

that you must lay claim

to mine, pretending

to be mistress

of the world, instead

of being yourself?

 

sadly, I fear you are

losing the battle for

a moment in the sun

you will tire

before your time, for

 

no one else is fighting

we made our peace,

with the moon

and if you seek praise

from heaven's eye,

you are on your own

---

 

mors amoris

 

---

dearest one

I might be the death of you

or we will be

the death of love

but, may something more

penetrating

than four painless letters

rise from the grave

---

 

This week's words

 

---

 

British-Indian poetess Nikita Gill is a heroine of mine, though she doesn't often rely on nature imagery in her work. But in this lovely, sad & sweet poem she reminds us beautifully of the true source of our potential, and the undeniable unity of all earth energy, within and out. I've never seen this famous Pando Aspen Grove, but I can picture the speckled yellow trees laid before the familiar rocky backdrop of Utah and the clear blue skies, and it's a vision quivering with color and life. No wonder it's also called "the trembling giant".

Read it slow, and search again for the strength that has always been there. 

 

 

---

 

of fire

 

 

---

there exists an ageless knowledge, calling

silent wisdom hidden on the other side of waterfalls

elements beyond mortal grasp and colors escaping these eyes

there exist countless entities unseen concerning this cosmos, that I

will never know, I will never learn, but

of fire, I know

her incensed heart and soul

speaking with skipping pulse and raging motion

and I know with desperate hunger, she clings to oxygen

reaching with flickering arms

for the air that promises to sustain

so you, my little earth flower scorned

if you feel your lonely essence going up in smoke, listen:

you must stop

breathing life

into the fire that burns you

---

 

photo: sunset & half moon over Tampa, Florida, september 2018

love poems

 

 

---

no, I have never written them

for you, or because anyone

is deserving of them

I have written

and I write, will always write

these words of reminiscence divine

because I am at a loss, if I cannot

remind my heart

of all I have felt

of the strength carried like

an armful of stone

over every precipice of hurt

to remind my heart

of all that I've had

and all that waits for me

---

 

photo: St. Pete beach, Florida, may 2018

please,

 

---

do this favor

for both our sakes

get my name out

of your sad little mouth

and I'll get your man

to come home, to do

daylight things with you

after he's done

exploiting the evening

with me

---

 

the sound of cymbals

 

---

I am sick in my soul

of being polite

skirting around words

pretending to be thoughtless

and quiet to spare masculine pride,

delicate female feelings

if you want, pronounce this a battle

but I take no pleasure in victory

while you sit, in the

eternal loss you have chosen

if you plan to exist as my enemy

I have no time for darkness, and

you can stay the hell away

but if you stand a mile away

to show me your strength, or

call out for help from a distance

I will run to lift you

with the strength of

a thousand tigers

try to stop me

---

 

I believe

 

 

---

 

I believe in the goodness of people - young and old, rich and poor, united and alone. The strength of a global sisterhood, and the truth that women only hurt one another because we have been hurt.

 

I believe in measuring wealth by acts of kindness. Smiling at every human - good or bad, bitter or laughing - because not everyone wears their sorrows where we can see.

 

I believe in walking softly, spending time with children, and choosing words carefully. Always striving to listen more than I speak, because the world I have found myself in has so much to teach.

 

I believe in the power of love to transcend history, distance, and loss. Giving more than I receive, because God, Earth, & Sun grace me with the strength that others may never realize.

 

I believe in the freedom of choice as a religion. Unhappiness cannot linger forever, because one's true home is the energy we carry and cultivate, and the choices we make to thrive in peace or drown in toxicity.

 

I believe in conservation - of things, of time, of feelings. Sparing others from pain even if it leaves me a little tired, because I have been fortunate beyond measure in this bounty of unspoken love.

 

---

 

photo: wild blackberries in Blood Mountain wilderness, Georgia, july 2018