HOW MANY DREAMS MAKE A SAINT?
(As many as prayers enwrap sin.)
Make me flexible again, Lord,
Bring me to that place of comfort
In this everlasting body.
Let me be but another Beginning
One more Easter; re-admitting the Light
I carry it upon me,
A cape of strong silk
Snapped out to stop the wind & fly.
There is a ray of light with my name on it
Somewhere here – I know it!
Another elusive Start, supported
Unreservedly by universe.
I am best at beginnings…
The one keeping track,
making notches on my stick…
Must be plumb worn-out by now!
Holding my horses while I’m in the parade is lunacy!
NO MORE MR. NICE GIRL
I look as sappy in the photo as the cottonwood behind me
And when did I ever wear pink in Real Life?
I don’t even know what I’m missing
Except it’s no longer there.
A sea entered my inner chambers
Hollowed/hallowed as any woman –
Wrought the change you see here
The rebirthing: resistance re-inflating.
What emerges? Who is this new Being?
…she who no longer needs pink?
In the desert, sometimes butterflies turn into dragons.
I put the mirror low, to see myself coming & going.
First is awareness; teaching myself what to look for
By seeing what others see.
I built a wall I thought a lattice
A work of temporary art that became a template
Situations fill themselves in
Too broad by far: whole emotional categories apply
To a scintilla of evidence!
“Becoming the universe” is the soul’s ultimate
Then very little ever matches up again.
It seems my mind
Wants to dart for every circumstance…
Fear keeps one paw upraised.
I’ve Got A Secret
At first it seems covert:
The Path: The Mystery: The Rest.
But now all that’s trappings…
And I’m on about mileage.
Make haste! Tempus Fugit!
MY INNER TEEN
Knows nothing but what she wants
The little thief dishes guilt like hash
Serves it hot & smelly
Sends it down the line
The little Righteous Scold
Who only knows rules & rulers, really,
Whose heart compressed them
Into puckered arrows arcing the sky
Putting all to distance.
Her Worlds gone hormonal
Too much knowledge, not near enough Knowing.
Beads, rattles, bells
Remind me where I’m from
Tho dry, I know ceremony counts
In stays broad & elemental
Verily I repeat, “There are not enough women singing.”
Mother Earth needs the voices of her daughters
The rhythms of women walking
That gentle, constant drumming
The light patter of every girl-child
Returns as fish & butterfly
Retracing their paths
To review the terms
Refine the Vision
Reclaim the prizes left behind.
Why only & ever a chip off the old block,
It seems to be I got as much as I ever wanted from that quarry.
This is not yet the time I am to strike flint & create fire.
I stand along a widow’s walk
Near a bridge, feeling equally suspended
When all I ever wanted was to be a rock.
May this wind bless our presence
May this rain bring forth our garden
When the One-Way signs point at each other
Often at crossroads,
Don’t take on any more lifetimes
Than you can handle.
Just walk straight through.
Take some time to sit with the cat.