Wanderling❁

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sunlight, why do you pretend to be my enemy

wind, why do you fight to steal my warmth

 

"sister, why do you question yourself"

"we are creation trying to reunite"

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tender heart

 

 

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silent spirits, forgive me

for disturbing your temple of snow

I speak my weakness, hunger

to walk, to see, to feel

beauty frozen in time

and to never grow old

but you, your arms hunched over

in little mountains of indifference

or houses of pain

I want to whisper to you, how much

I regret, all the memories I ache to undo

but say nothing

only emotion echoes from my bones

rattling the trees

graciously, snow swallows all the sound

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photo: alpine lakes wilderness, Washington, november 2020

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rain is blue, and medicinal

wandering is, too

rocking back and forth in my grief

finding a soft spot to sleep

and before dreaming, I swell

empty myself open

receiving hollow sounds

of old bird calls and

a thousand stories

resting in the mortar

to be ground, by dreams

back to life

--

 

photo: Crater Lake National Park, October 2020

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I laugh, like God. fireflies scatter at the sound to reveal a sorrowful horizon. but the mountain, she endures. I see her laugh, like God. if only they knew.

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photo: sunset, Crater Lake National Park, july 2020

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I am sitting barefoot in the grass

watching the sun sit on everything

and my heart is breaking

it sits, on the skin of a sleeping man's bare back

on the nervous light green leaves covering the oak branches above my head

on a parked car, making a silver-streaked glare that waters my eyes

on a crumpled orange kite trapped in a tree

on my own two feet moving in and out of shadow as the clouds come and go

and the sun, it sits

and my heart is breaking

to let in the light.

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Ancestor

 

 

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to make peace

with your demons

who call you

lovely, little brother

and scratch your eyes

you must inhale cold lies,

exhale fierce truth.

and how you'll dance

on the eagle's hill of freedom

and I, will be dead

on your victory day

finally, I can

allow my dark ones to win.

and only the stars

not only, but all

will hear you sing.

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photo: night sky over Grand Tetons, june 2020

jupiter

 

 

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how many times 

can a human fall in love

with the same sky

- is twice each day too many?

when he blinks alive

with simmering, twinkling light

that grows to a blinding laugh

he calls you by name

and the hours begin, then again,

later, heavy with sleep

lavender and periwinkle dreams

coaxing old love to rise from memory

and hold your hand, only to sink

into himself, he is sighing

knowing the gift of grief

and aware of your stricken heart, dizzy

with temptation and obsession

bids a colorful farewell

that does not usher sadness,

but rings in your belly like god's first butterfly

pink, saffron, then melancholy grey

palette of sun and surrender

promising nothing and everything

to mortal, innocent eyes in love

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photo: sunset, Grand Teton National Park, june 2020

spring awakening

 

 

photos: young sakura blossoms, Medford, Oregon, march 2020

grandmother river

 

 

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and the river, it flowed from no where

but I could hear the beginning of a story

in my grandmother's gentle voice

gently rising and falling, drawing breath

recalling to me the times she stood knee deep

watching the fish and waiting

a few feet, behind her husband

a few hours, before the rising sun

and the long walk home in silence

under the weight of shouldered baskets

towards home again

along the river that flowed from no where

towards another day, of the same life

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photo: Ashland Creek, Lithia Park, february 2020

the blue

 

 

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I sank into the valley

sank into myself

the blue was waiting

and I stole it all,

for the day I rise

to meet the mountains again

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smoke over the valley, Emigrant Lake, Oregon, february 2020