Tag Archives for poetry

the sun and the moon

Sometimes I feel like we are the sun and the moon,
chasing each other around the curve of the earth,
occupying the same sky for only short moments as one fades into slumber as the other gathers strength to rise,
always separated by long hours and the turning distance of the world…

Am I the moon? waxing and waning, quiet and feminine?
And you the sun? with your impressive brilliance, untamed energy and masculinity?
Though, other times, it could be the opposite…
your desire to hide your face and ability to sit in the darkness…
and me, who does not know how to sleep, or how to hold back…

Perhaps it is impossible to know who is who until we are able to gaze at each other, face to face, in the same sky…

Perhaps we are merely fixed points, cycling through different costumes and roles as we whirl across the heavens…

Perhaps there is nothing more separating us than the hesitation to reach across the distance and open fully to the other…

Perhaps it is only a dream…

waking or sleeping…

a fantasy of desire…

ceremony

I am watching the blue cat
stretch and furl in sensuous sleep
against the turquoise blanket,

and I am watching the delicate snowflakes
dance on the wind
from the peaceful house’s
wide windows,

and I am feeling still
the rhythm of the book’s song
the beat of it’s magic
continuing far beyond
the turning of the last page,

and I am feeling still
the waves of the story’s pattern
as it remakes the world
around me
calling out the strength
of the earth’s beauty
in every movement and breath.

It is a great story
that can make you feel
the power and responsibility
of your weight in this world,
that can show you
how your pattern and presence
are woven into this living web.

It is a great truth
we all need to remember,
the importance of
our role in this
great ceremony called life.

patience

patience was the message given
the telling of which made me laugh
out loud
in the middle of ceremony!
– me –
– patience –
what a warrior gauntlet thrown!
I did not suspect this place
would be the master of it
though,
the city fastness and hustle
cannot hold long in
the grip of
this inexorable
forest languor
slowly
steadily
incrementally
I ease
into this pocket
of natural rhythm
of tree-edged sky
of inter-woven overlapping webs
of deep round breaths
of oscillations unwinding
the enduring dance
quiet
quieting
quieter still
I will need to
become
to master this teaching,
oh!
a good long lesson
this will be!

Electoral College


Ghosts of our former glory,
keep reminding us
those golden days are long past,
that we no longer have the excuse
of inexperience
to allow repeating
the follies
of youth.
Help us turn and embrace
the ripe era of wisdom ahead
with clean hands,
capable and caring,
and unfettered
by such blind greed
as this.

the fire inside

I wish I could adequately describe the way it is when this feeling floods into me and every petty, small, singular part of me is overpowered and washed away with such love and admiration for this experience of the world that I can barely string words together to attempt to show you the exquisite truth of it all.

How to encompass so much wonder…how to connect the fire of you to it…

I doubt I’ve managed to succeed yet, but I’m going to to keep trying because everyone should to get to know what this feels like.

Aryk

tonight – suddenly – I am distinctly remembering that first week in Berlin – the sharp biting chill and the thick foreign layers brusquely piled against the cold yet also cradling the treasured depths of warmth inside everything candlelit the unusual syncopation of European cars on wet roads filtering up four floors through the tall straight panes to swerve into the pop and gurgle of the radiator and the creak of the parquet under my feet bouncing off die Deckenleisten and the distance measured by the signature of the U1 rumbling all mixed up with grey days navigating trains and buses and endless stairs to history with my rusted shut Deutsch and the bright tantalizing market canal confusion and your splendid chuckle and shining mind traveling with me through ascendant light plays and security geeking prodding me to explore deeper and consider more about all the connections between these living pasts and futures and where we stood at the bubbling brewing Berlin edge of everything.

It’s a diamond, this jeweled slice of German winter I get to carry in my heart, and I am so deeply profoundly and utterly grateful that I get to know such amazing people as you to light up the world for me.

Fortune: snake, dragonfly, coyote, mouse

change is coming

a wild shift

full of power
that will shake the very core of you

fly through the illusions you have built
in idleness and ineffective defense

let go of your hiding away and your smallness

lay it down,
lovingly,
front and center,
as an offering to that past life
that no longer serves you

know yourself full and shining with all the incandescent fire of your truest being

it is time to share your gifts

For A, For Everyone

My dear friend,

I want you to wake up in the morning and wrap your arms around your body and give it thanks for all that it does in carrying you through this life. Love it for how selflessly it enables you to be here in this world. 

I want you to stand in front of the mirror and look yourself in the eyes and say I love you. I love you. I love you, until you believe it. 

And then keep saying it. Everyday. 

I see you so often calling out to the whole world to love you, to validate you, but no one else can do that for you but you. 

No one else can do that for you but you. 

You can do this. 

You are immeasurable and I long to see you love yourself as only you are capable of. 

Love,

K

Barcelona in Berlin 

you’re walking home down the cold dark street and as you pass the place on the corner you hear the rapid arpeggios being skillfully drawn from the guitar and stop mesmerized by the skill of the musician and the passionate voice of the chords, and the bar man sees you through the window and beckons at you with a chiding grin on his face to enter and be greeted inside with warm candlelight and more open smiles and the long silky ears of a big sweet basset hound and exuberant Barcelona “tttthhhhssss” sliding through the air and the Spanish ladies that confidently take the floor with sultry eyes and languid hands and encourage you out to join them in smooth hips rolls and graceful flourishes and joyful appreciation of tempestuous music and then names are shared and compliments and teasing woven through talk of San Francisco and Barcelona and Berlin and change and age and your bed calls again again and you leave promising to return tomorrow, and you will, because there’s magic in the night here and it blossoms with glowing delight in cozy little pockets just waiting for you and to be there.