Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for April, 2013

Full Moon Lunar EclipseIMG_0040
(for all of those I love already in the glow of peace)

        This full moon has me spinning
        in its powerful Scorpio orbit
        whirling all the ghostly passions
        and heart songs
        that confuse my senses:
        colored by grief
        joy
        hate
        anger,
        tempered by the drone
        of thoughts
        hammering
        pounding
        forging
        the many visions
        my monkey mind
        collects
        and prizes
        like the purest treasure…
       
        I look past the greening
        walnut tree
        and see the vast scape
        of the desert
        under clear
        star studded skies:
        my eyes dull
        to their brilliant light.
        This is my new time
        my now
        my clean slate,
        I stare at the tree’s weathered
        mossy trunk
        and know
        it’s been here longer
        than anything it shades:
        witnessing the passing
        of so many lives
        marching in their tiny
        insignificant orbs,
        so sure that they
        matter
        and
        that anything
         or anyone really cares….
       
        Beyond this flesh,
        this temporal body
        and  over inflated ego.
        I see nothing
        but light,
        in its encompassing
        infinity,
        and if I open my heart
        it swallows me whole
         lifts me
        past the night sky
         to where everything
        dissolves into
        the purest
        of loves
        and
        I am once
        again
        whole
        as the moon
        chiding me
        to let go –
        let be…….

        In this night song,
        there is no
        dancer
        no voice
        just movement
        toward
        infinity
        and the
        silence
        of
        peace,
        sweet
        peace…..
       
       
       

Read Full Post »

Beauty

   

            Today a woman told me I was beautiful –IMG_1181
            she preempted the statement
            with the nervous phrase:
            “I am heterosexual
             and happily married
            for 40 years.”
            There we were –
             two anonymous
            middle aged women
            waiting
            for our heated
            bodies to cool down
            from the searing
            steam bath,
            and after I thanked
            her
            and tried not to appear
            too taken aback,
            I recognized
            her courage,
            her generosity
            and sat with her statement.
            She had dared to
             break that barrier
            from thought
            to  word…
            Maybe this is the stuff
            of those of us
            approaching
            our darker years,
            that we want to spill
            out kindness
            and generosity
            while we still can…..
             
            I took her compliment
            and then looked into
            my heart
            to thank
            her for all time,
            to bless myself
            with her courage
            and pass it forward-
            for beauty comes
            from all those
            that have chiseled
            my spirit,
            from the sorrows
            and doubts
            clouding my path,
            from knowledge
            gifted
            by so many teachers
            cast my way –
            the ones
            that protected me
            in my darkest moments:
            it is like
            the breeze
            that lifts the afternoon
            sun and casts it
            past our eyes,
            to the farthest                     
            edges of the longest                     
            spring day.                     
            It was her beauty
            not mine-
            I reflected back –
            Namaste,
            dear friend,
            whose name
            I will never know –
            I recognize
            the divine in you,
            today
            and for all time.
           
       

Read Full Post »

My father died almost two months ago – and my mother 8 years ago.  I am officially an orphan now.  I had heard people talk about the strange feeling of abandonment that occurs once you lose both your parents, and I am feeling it.  That unconditional love you feel from your parents is gone – and no one, not lover, husband or child can give you that same kind of love – well, perhaps your dog.  My father loved dogs and he taught me that they are your selfless true companions.  I guess I fully embraced that concept as I have had a dog all of my life.  As a child we had dogs (both my parents loved animals) and then as soon as I left home, I got my own.  And he was right, they are noble and unconditional in their love.  I am grateful he taught me this, and everyday I remember how much he loved his own silly rug rats.  I miss my father more than I can stand – he was my partner in poetry and my friend – in the true sense of the word – he always listened, didn’t rush to conclusions and supported me in all my endeavors.  I still think of calling him almost daily, and in the middle of the night I know I call his name – in many ways – if not literally.

Loss is something we all have to contend with – so many times – in our lives, and it is a slow process to find the healing light in the darkness.  I have experienced this more than I would like – but it has taught me many lessons – the least of which is to be grateful for the here and now and to cherish all that you have – NOW – because change is inevitable.  All those dear to me that have gone are with me still – my husband, Allen who I lost in 1991 – has been in my life always…in so many different ways – some of which you can recognize in my poetry, but most strongly in my sons – who are a true testament to the man he was – in their personalities and in their fierce determination to make this a better world.  My mother left her mark on me by teaching me to be the strong woman  I am today and giving me pride in my culture.  And now my father hovers over me demanding that I write like he did so many times in my life – He would often stop complete strangers when we were on any outing and tell them I was a great poet.  At the time it embarrassed me, but now I am ever so grateful for his rantings – these days I would give anything to have him by my side “bragging on me.”  He is sorely missed, but now more than ever I will heed his words – and write poetry – because that is the way to his heart……

As a tribute to dad, my partner, David has built me a poetry post/box – he made it with completely recycled materials and it sits in our front yard.  In it I post a poem per week or one of my father’s poems and there are copies of our book “Steps Toward the Light” in the box that lovers of poetry can take home.  It is one more way to heal and to keep dad close at heart –

20130414_162237 20130414_162134 20130414_161835

Read Full Post »

Morning Song

        Meandering this early Sunday
        is my only task at hand,
        basking in the freedom of free
        spacious timeIMG_3231
        with my constant companion
        his jingling collar
        in rhythm with his gait
        nails tinkling the concrete piano
        of these city streets:
        we wander with no set direction
        sniffing out the hood
        and stopping to drink
        in the scent of new roses
        and cherry blossoms,
        or wisteria …..
        The sidewalk is blanketed
        in pink,
        such a sweet carpet
        that brings to mind
        dreams of little girls
        and cotton candy
        sticky sweet –
        in the cool summer days
        when you
        whisked me away to ride
        the monster roller coaster
        and feel the breeze
        high above the rumble
        of Coney Island.

        You are with me on these walks
        in the brisk morning air,
        the wet fog so like
        the city high in the Andes
        where you were born,
        clouds hugging the mountains,
        like these that swell
        and cover the city peaks
        in the distance
        past the bridges
        and the train tracks.
        This early the warning call
        of the locomotives
        is as clear as any church bell
        or foghorn
        and we stop to listen
        to its plaintive call,
        and then I realize
        it’s you saying
        good morning
        and urging me on
        to find  hidden gems
        I can tuck into my heart
        and bring home
        to share with all
        in these finite words
        which cannot even
        begin to encompass
        the grace and love
        you send me
        from wherever you have gone,
        and for this I thank you
        and carry forth.
       
       

Read Full Post »