Llamando

speak.
speak, now.
the time has come to open your mouth and throw
echoes of sound
like bells and gongs resounding
the way thunder rolls
how water falls
now, is the time.
so speak,
pour forth in waves from your tongue the beauty
you see in everyone
you know
there is no face that
does not resemble god's

and the wind now
roars to hear your spirit sing
so let loose your words
unleash everything
untie your animal left panting outside
release your bound maiden
your whore, your bitch, your hag
unfold in a whisper
heal in song
let metaphors soothe you, rock you softly to sleep
cradled in a pregnant pause

know surrender

unclasp your understandings, your
opinions highly held
refinish all your edges
rewrite the pattern
break the spell
breathe in
breathe out,
speak,
now.

today

words,
in their specificity
elude me, as does any one flavor
in my mouth this morning.
their's a jumbled blending
a pull-apart distinctive disrelation,
and questions,
so many questions dancing..

questions that may or may not benefit,
to ask
to receive answers to
possible story-lines run races
through my inner fields, laughing
and tripping each other in the high grass
there is a confused sadness, an elation

i am satiated
i am full
i am wondering
i am appalled
i am all of these things
and many more,
a stew-pot cauldron of nebulous
and crystalline
happenings.

Beloved Friend

in dreams, I greet you

by your own name,
not the one you wore on the street.

your eyes are shining and bright
and your hair styled, clothes clean
dapper, even
with your slow and unsure smile.

I wake,
and wonder about you.
You,
who no one's heard from in awhile.
You, who once upon a dingy garage
taught me how to knit, with
a warmth and gentleness and
kindness, somewhat uncharacteristic
you told me your mother had taught you,
with a softness in your tone,
maybe it was the memory of that love
that shone through you, then

I wonder if you're out there
drifting, still
Or maybe you have found rest,
alive or dead.

I wonder
upon waking,
and say a prayer for you.

So it goes..

it's funny
the things that can get you down.

funny, and not really
the cracks they forge, sometimes
in the dam that's holding back the
grey,
the in-between place
of living, but not really
that floating somewhere
between responsibility
and flight
ever, dusk, not quite dawn
grey,
despite the sun's light

how much would it take, really? she asked me
to wreak havoc and create destruction?
and i think,

nothing at all, really
it would take
nothing-
just grey-blah-drifting away
and it could start the spin, and the slow
unwinding
the melting down of
all that I care about in my life,
of all that i am working so hard for.
nothing,
really

maybe i
am just pessimistic
and maybe she is hopeful,
and maybe that should slap the shit out of me, really
because she has just endured
the greatest hardship
of her life

it's funny,
the things that get you down,
and even, if
on another's behalf,
the things that bring you light.

Her

speak to me of oblivion,
of the quiet, fearful ghosts that
haunt your hours
tell me your fantasy,
and I will tell you mine

this morning
I take my leave
and find my mouth is full of
poems

rivers of thought
and word and
metaphor
have somehow
burst dams
and now threaten
to flood

you, me,
this day

your sweet nectar covered
my face
and my hands
delicious
raw and vulnerable
curious,
I am the bee
returning to the flower
your pistil, stamen, petals
drench
and enchant me

I am so taken with
you,
your nakedness in view of
all the neighbors
the way you
take up space,
neither
begging, nor
demanding.

I am

I am a flame,
 burning brightly
my womb, my belly, my heart, my eyes
navel and crown

I am a flame,
 flickering in the wind,
but never going out
I will be a faithful tender
of my soul's light
I will lovingly care for this lucito
entre de mi...

A keeper,
 of sweet nectar honey-light,
 hot sweetness pouring forth
A keeper,
 of ways forgotten and remembered,
 of my own soul
I will burn steadfastly
 a beacon in the night
illuminating the darkness of the world,
and my own

I am a flame,
 who will not go out.
Who will not go out.

on Joy, from my Dancing Time in CO

Joy pervades my being,
it infuses every cell
until it overflows
then
seeping out of my pores
it radiates
and rises

I am pouring out
a golden river of light
to wrap you in,
to encircle the world

If we forget this place
we will not have the fire to fight
to make change
we will drown in sorrow's wake

this place in me
is original and pure
it is my spirit's favorite
dwelling

as I remember,
I re-member myself

Joy is a mighty resource
it is the sun shining in my chest,
through the long, dark night

It is expansive, and warm.

the Forest on a Sunday.

I had to go away,
to be alone
in the wilderness of the world
to be able to hear myself
to recognize
the sound of my own voice
amidst the clamoring

today,
this truth.

There is nothing wrong with me.

I am whole, a circle.
ever circling
and cycling
through the layers of
my own
understanding.

I am listening.

Listening, now,
to All of me.

May I learn to greet myself
with love, acceptance,
gentleness
and peace.

Spider Lessons

I only meant to admire her
as I stepped
closer to her sinewy, shining home
when snap!
a strand breaks and
from out of me flies-
I am sorry!

stepping closer
now
to watch her

meal interrupted, she
moves quickly
to the unraveling place
it could have been the rain,
the wind,
a passing deer
to cause the strand to break and I
think, how often
this must happen

What kind of determination is this?

I watch in wonder
at
She who weaves, and
reweaves, again
her home,
her sustenance,
her web
without a complaint, or even
great pause
She returns to
mending and spinning,
over and again.

trying to impress you

siiighhhhh...
solita
and not quite
on this the day of rest, and
now the night

exhale

and breathe in again

deeper
note the curvature of muscle
the shifting of bone
all the shapes I have taken on
that are not
my own

hold the structures' imbalances
in the eye of your palm
hold your self, your body
place hand over hand
on the small of your back
and remind yourself
with insatiable tenderness-

you are protected,
you are held.

twist, move,
bend, curl
unravel now, unroll~
exhale, inhale, exhale
let
go

second round now
more questioning
less light the
substance of the words that come
as i turn
to welcome
night

and what of this darkness, my own
and yours?
what of the places that we exile and abhor?
how do we move, towards?
the kind of self-approval and acceptance
that makes space for authenticity and vulnerability in relationship,
and makes a gift
of our presence,

always

welcoming others in,
welcoming others in,
welcoming ourselves in.

the Dance...

Sitting in a cute little coffee shop in Denver....I am feeling so thankful and excited to be here.

Had a wonderfully late night, caught a 5:55 am flight, and somehow made it here. 

My sweet friend picked me up at the airport and, as always, we drop in together to the space shared between souls that have known each other before.  Deep conversation, deeper laughter, as we catch up on each other's lives, a much shorter time in-between this time around.

She welcomes me into her home, and I am delighted for her, for the place she has found and made for herself in the world.  Choosing home...what a delicious, grounding, and nourishing thing to do. She is brilliant and shining.

And in her light, I catch a glimpse of my own reflected.  Of the shifts and changes and transformation that continue to unfold and blossom in me.

Coming here, I was worried that I would not be able to show up as myself, or fully, or something...

Worried that my old patterns of keeping myself small and separate would inhibit my ability to move with authenticity and relate to those around me.

So far, not so.

Thank goodness. 

Sometimes I live in fear of the snap-shut/shut-down/disappearing/disassociating act that has been a part of my life and my being.  More and more, I feel the possibility of change, the affirmation of it.  The evidence shows up unexpectedly some days.

And, I know it may still happen, that I may have some road yet to travel with this old habit/pattern.

But knowing something different creates the space for change.  

And gives me hope.

The kind of hope that helps me choose to live every day and continue on, even when the road, internally or externally, gets rough.

I came here to dance.

I came here to dance with all the places in me that are yet uninitiated.  

I came here to dance with the young woman, the girl, who left and did not look back.

I am here to dance with her, myself, she that swallowed down somebody else's stories, and so now rejects, abandons, and exiles herself.

I came here to dance with myself, my life, my body's wisdom, my memories.

I am here to dance with sadness, anger, compassion, fear, and joy.

I am here to dance and to welcome all of myself with open arms.

Choice

i am writing again and yet the page and pen are elusive friends that sometimes hide themselves and sometimes wait for my jaded eyes to open

how to adjust and re-adjust to the reality of the days I find myself in
how to hold both, all
both my accomplishments and growth, and my disappointments and failures, and all those decisions that cannot be undone

how to flow, to be willing to let go of anything at any moment for the sake of well being and balanced movement...how to transform patterns and presence
how to dance with sadness of an existential nature, that which has moved in me always, or at least as far back as i can remember
was it nurtured by my environment, or just exasperated by it? did i come in with this?  something handed down to me to deal with?

how to
choose
every
day

visiting home

the smell of fresh air
its feel on my skin,
the sound of the trees in the wind
bending
and bending back again,
the strength
of yielding
the sight of the stars
not just two or three,
but layers of starlight dancing
beyond reach
the ocean,
the river,
a fire to sit with,
kindred.

Roots

I am so much clearer than i have ever been before about some things.
Some things like relations that no longer, or have never served me, wholly.
Things like dynamics of disturbance and dysfunction that set a pattern, a rhythm I learned to live by.
And how so much, not completely, but so much of my sense of self has been shaped and influenced by those external frequencies.

I can see myself more and more clearly, as though the wool I pulled over my own eyes has been unraveling. It is the things that we refuse to see that most heavily influence our perception and creation of reality.

I am claiming and reclaiming all that I have ever hid, shamed, discarded, interrupted, downplayed, denied, let shrivel, let starve.

I am bringing the darkness to light, and the light to the dark.

determined

feet strike floor
boards rattling
the pounding of palms of feet,
stomping, reverberating
up my tree trunk legs
towards the sky
arms shoot out like branches from my sides and then
elbows bend
palms of hands open wide, wider
than before now, stretching
each finger tip, spirals out
waves of fierce, hot
light
i am
big, big, bigger
than before now, stretching
i am rooted down
deep, past the crumbling crust
through to where the water flows beneath
down to the fire again, burning
i am
magma, earth, root, core

Things I'll Never Get to Say.

May our Love be as vast as the ocean,

May we expand exponentially 

out past

right and wrong

beyond what he did, what she did

and all those tired

conversations

May our Hearts remember what drew us to

Love, here

in the first place

You are

Friend

Lover

Mirror, other

Shadow illuminator

and yes, 

my Love, we 

have seen each other shine~

and our hearts, warmed

by that sweet glow

and now, dear One,

what is left, 

in our broken-open hands?

my Love for you

the possibility of maybe something bigger being True

maybe,

you and I have done the best we can

and maybe

we are Teachers for each other

we dared to Love

with such passion and such fury

in such a gloriously short 

Life, as this

You are

Lion Man,

Otter Boy,

Gypsy Child,

you are so many things that I will never know

May our Compassion

be as vast as the ocean

May we expand exponentially

out past

right and wrong

beyond what he did, what she did

and all those tired

conversations,

May our Hearts remember what drew us to

Love, here

in the first place.

to sleep, perchance to dream

It is late now, as I write this.
And it has been a full day. I could crawl into bed and pass out pretty quickly, I am sure....but there is still so much moving in my mind and my heart.

Attempting to do some honest looking at myself and with support, continuing to dig deeper. To explore and excavate that which has so long laid buried. 

And it's awful, actually sometimes, in that supremely uncomfortable way- walking up to my own edges and leaning into them, despite my own protesting.  And... it's helping me to heal and evolve.

Tonight I sit with gentleness, invite it's presence in.  Into my heart and into my relation with myself.  Especially around the themes and hurts I have been working with.  Especially into those places in which I give myself a really hard time.

Growth is a process.  Life is a process.

And sleep is a process in which my body refreshes, rejuvenates, and heals itself...so actually, on second thought...methinks sleep is in order, immediately!

Love to all who lay dreaming now~

rain

mist now, really
but my pores are desperate thirsty opening wide
to absorb
as much moisture from the air
as is there
the earth too creaks open I can feel her soily skin
around me
breathing in

New Dawn, New Day

I wake
from dreaming

of giving birth to my self
Precious dark haired little girl
the umbilical cord stretching out, bridging
the worlds between us
I know she is coming, but I am alone
no one around to assist in this midwifing-
but she is here Now,
and so I squat
and catch her in my own arms

I catch her in my own arms

I catch her
in my own arms

she doesn't cry
we look into each others' eyes
and the corners
of her small mouth turn
to smile.