Tag Archives: Poetry

Subsistence

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I know what it is to subsist under the weight of darkness.

I know about the exponential effort to drag yourself through the day,
limb by leaded limb.

I know about that magnetic force that paralyzes you,
into the chair in front of your computer screen:
a planned paramnesia,
as your only antidote for this suffering,
when you “can’t make it,” again.

And I know how these very words- “I can’t,”
become a repetitive reel,
ruminating and rising,
ton by laden ton,
they build bars,
around your soul,
you struggle for air,
yet all you find is anger.

But I also know what it is to live.

I know what it is to bathe my spirit in sunlight,
and breath the sweetness of serenity.

I know about allowing oneself to be carried, by wisdom,
gathered of seamless connection,
the common pulse of all living beings,
and the oness that confesses,
that light and darkness are the same.

I have been held by the healing energy,
of an embrace,
washed in the humble purity,
of children’s laughter,
reveled in my own worth,
and in that of every other,
seemingly insignificant life,
of this whimsical world.

I also know enough,
to know that I know less,
than what I don’t,
and that I cannot live in,
perpetual poise,
because to do so,
would be to fall into deception,
and roll again,
under the weight of darkness.

Peace

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Speeding down the coast,
I was gritting my teeth,
Deepened by the hollowness of worry.

With a swoosh my car veered right,
And with it, the flopping alarm,
of a flat tire.

I pulled into a dirt parking lot,
beside the sea,
called and waited to be rescued.

The sun was just drooping below the clouds,
behind the black, baby islands,
with streaks of orange and crimson.

The sound of rounded rocks,
fumbling for the earth,
below the weight of waves.

Simple silhouettes in the background,
gliding gracefully,
before each frothy ocean pulse.

Somehow the worry seeped out,
and lost its weight,
Between stones and water.

Darkening mist,
tickling my nostrils,
soothing my tired chest.

Sensing Twilight

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sunsetCharred-black silhouetted
pine trees against
the blue-grey dusk.

The sound of rhythmic velcro
as my flip flops kiss
the damp dirt road.

Cool air brushes past my arms,
and the first flickering stars emerge
from behind the dark cloak of clouds,
that still retains the moon,
prolonging her enterance
into the magnificent night sky.

The lazy barking of a dog
gives way to the
quiet whisper of waves.

With the taste of salty humidity on my lips,
I inhale the scent of stillness,
after a sudden summer rain.

Walking Poem

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rocky Maine shoreThe Sea breathes gently in my ears
as the light surf strokes the rocky sand
in an ancient song that began before the invention of time.

It was not long ago that I mastered the art of scampering
across this rugged Maine shoreline,
first carefully testing each step
then hopping from rock to rough patch of sand
to slippery seaweed covered ledge.

It was here I first learned about beauty,
that the pulse of nature that surrounds us,
is the same that sustains us from within.

Today my feet skip and spring in graceful memory
of the rhythm I have danced so many times gone by.

Today I find new meaning in this timeless,
perpetually shaping coast.

Today I understand the wisdom
in the lessons learned here.

For it is honest and wise to be cautious before stepping,
But there will come a time we must trust in the dance,
and only in letting go do we learn to leap.

Still Standing

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coss in the clearingAfter the ashes have settled,
around the burning crosses,
and the billows of gray fog have lifted,
I will be there.

Perhaps a bit torn,
tear-stained tattered,
rip-frayed shabby,
bruised,
but standing.

You will find me in the open,
where you will be able to see me clearly,
in my state of
fractured wholeness.

You might even notice
a certain lightness about me,
as I smile in sincerity,
my presence- an embrace,
my love- no longer for the taking.

I will offer it only as a gift,
a healing source,
that only a liberated soul
can bestow.

And I will call out with melodies of strength,
to those who are listening
for a way through these ashes,
towards the clearing where I stand.

Only those with ears attuned
to these vibrant longings and holy hymns,
will hear my song,
and only those that hold,
the ambivalence of justice within their souls,
will turn and follow through,
with their open hearts beating,
and their blessed voices singing.

They will join in sacred harmony,
for our Ways are many,
but together we are a Psalm.

Wildflower

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IMG_20150424_085651477I want to be a wildflower,
growing in the shadows,
of jagged mountains.

Fragile, fleeting-beauty,
simplicity in being,
rebellious in the face monstrosity.

It is a difficult deed,
to open one’s petals,
before ominous giants.

Tiny and frail,
the memory of calamity,
ripe within its roots,
submerged in rocky soil.

It’s a gradual awakening,
eternal in its stubbornness,
in search of light within shadows.

Becoming in blooming:
Alive in defiant Grace.