Sunday, December 31, 2017

Free Radical



  I’ve pulled up roots again 
  and am drifting,
  a dandelion searching 
  for fertile soil.
  I stretch my arms wide,
  and close my eyes.
  Lean into the billowing wind 

  and take flight.

  Giddy from the height,
  I trace backwards flips 

  in the sky. 
  Spin butterfly silk 
  from my belly 
  to catch me 
  as I free-fall.
  I hitch a ride 
  on dancing electrons, 
  Balance tippy toe
  on the explosion 

  of disrupted bonds.

  Wherever I go, 
  there’s only the illusion 
  of being solid,
  I’m just space breathing 

  into more space. 
  My skin, 
  a porous barrier,
  allowing me 

  to bend and flex.
  I’m more aware than ever 
  how random it is,
  that only gravity 

  holds me to the earth. 

Liminal Spaces


An ode to the men in my life

“Waves need the shore to crest” 
-Mark Nepo

Thank you
for your broad shoulders
and firm stance
deep voices
sculpted muscles
and endearing paunches.

The hot stolen glances
and electric touch
that sends tremors from skin to soul in seconds.
The curious turn of a phrase that catches me off guard
and jolts me out of my seriousness with a chuckle.

Your counter beat liberates me from the sticky web
of my mind’s labyrinthine thoughts.
You season my words
Lighten my journey
And deepen my story.

How many times have you
smoothed the wrinkles in my brow
coaxed my clenched fist 
to soften and stretch into long, graceful fingers again
and let the poison built up like stored fat
be suctioned out with a snug hug or laugh.

Thank you for your 
strength
confidence 
and compassion
that allows me to slap up against your shore
so I can rise tall and powerful
before I tuck and curl
to splash down once again in this playful dance.

May we always find each other
weaving in and out of these liminal spaces
in between labels
evading defininitions
and dissolving borders

I am grateful
sweet brothers
for the gift of balance
in your presence
I bite my lip
and savor the pleasure a bit longer.



Fire Walk

Reborn

We come in twos and threes
Dragging our bags of sadness behind us
Each offering her wounds 
   to be witnessed 
       touched 
           healed.
Holding space as we 
   weep
     laugh
        dance
Kiss the fire with our feet
Throw it all in the flame 
so we can rise like smoke
Reborn.

The fire tender

Shuffling up to the fire
giddy like popcorn
I see a familiar lanky shadow
flickering against the backdrop of crackling coals.
They blink at me playfully as he rakes.
Steadily, 
   slowly, 
       sensually.
I'm in awe of his devoted service 
  to fire,
      to the goddess.
A lone man walking softly 
   among women... 

Women who gather,
circling the flame for warmth,
for support,
shedding clothes
and surrendering to the drumbeat.
Full and round,
wafting our intentions to the sky
Calling us to reclaim our own power,
feel the lava already pulsing through our veins.
Skin translucent, hair like flames…
Yet he is not challenged by us,
not afraid.
He calmly smooths the coals and recedes,
dissolves into the darkness beyond the circle,
head bowed
as our heartbeats and chants fill the sky.

And my heart tugs
as I grieve for the little girl
who once thought she had to hold herself back
so others would not be burned by her flame.
I walk the fire for her.
And pray for the day we can all walk the fire together.

The shift

Something is shifting.
I don’t know if you can feel it yet,
but if you get really still.
Reject the ancient echo
of fear and scarcity
pulsating from those losing power.
Put one hand on your heart
and the other on the slow rise of your belly,
close your eyes and breathe.
Hear that faint rumbling?
The rising heat?
That’s the future trying to be born.
Will you help her?