Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘being present’

Acceptance

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on February 13, 2026| Leave a Comment »


 
As wet loves the waves,
as dark loves night
as white loves snow
as a bell loves the strike
as a wing loves air,
as the shout loves the ear
as silence loves silence
let me love what is here.

Read Full Post »

Putting My Daughter on the Plane to Guatemala

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on August 12, 2024| 9 Comments »


 
 
I would like to say I wasn’t afraid,
but I was. I know too well how a plane
can fall from the sky. How terrible
 
things happen to innocent people.
How even when we try our hardest
to keep others safe, they can die.
 
Driving toward home, I was a snail
without its shell, a seed without its husk,
a woman alone in the dark with her fear.
 
I remember thinking if I needed to,
I could live through any future disaster,
even my worst nightmare.
 
But what I really needed was
to live in that very moment.
The more I was right where I was,
 
the more I felt the mystery around
and inside me, swirling until I was bigger
somehow, no less afraid but more spacious,
 
And though the world did not comfort me,
I felt myself soften as I flowed toward
the inevitable—flowed the way a river flows,
 
moved the way the wind moves,
grew the way a woman grows
when she meets the world that is here.

—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

Read Full Post »

The Day Before the Hurricane

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on August 21, 2023| 4 Comments »



            Tuolomne Meadows, Yosemite
 
 
The meadow is a vast embrace for light
and does not prepare for predicted rain.
White slabs of granite gather warmth
in their mass with no thought
of storm, and for a sun-drunk moment,
unshackled from purpose,
I’m undone from myself,
more becoming, less someone,
less trajectory, more field,
more attention to cinquefoil, dragonfly,
thin sweetness of mountain air.
In loving the world that is, I am exactly here
Buzz of fly. Beat of heart. Path of ant.
Beat of heart. Dry needles. Dry moss.
Beat of heart. Beat of heart.
Sage. Beat of heart. Stone. Beat
of heart. Deep spring. Tall pine.
Beat of heart. Beat of heart.
 
 

Read Full Post »

Waking Up

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged on January 6, 2023| 12 Comments »


 
Wait a minute, what if this is it?
            —John Tarrant
 
 
This is it, I think, as I lie in bed, not wanting to leave the warmth.
This is it, my feet meet the cold wood.
This is it, I water the orchid.
This is it, I boil water, make tea.
I think, I’ll be a better person tomorrow.
This is it, me dreaming of fresh starts.
This is it, defuzzing the sweater.
This is it, paying bills, answering mail, frying eggs, washing pans.
No life but this one.
No fresh start but here.
This is it, the cat sits on my papers.  
This is it, the phone doesn’t ring.
This is it, the floors need mopping,
the letter needs written, the class needs planned.
This is it, me wishing I could be more perfect.
This is it, this. This only. Only this.
This is it, this flutter in my chest
when the sun enters the room,
the natural leaning toward the light.
This is it, this silence.
This cold. This warmth.
This longing. This song on my lips.

Read Full Post »

Trough

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on November 10, 2021| 8 Comments »




There will be more
swells of grief that tug
me into their gray embrace,
and swirls of lament,
and great rollers of loss,
and rising waves of ache.
But for now,
the morning sun
slips low through the window
in a major key
and the cat finds a home
in my lap and purrs
and the tea in my cup
is warm and full of bright notes
and I’m here, in this
peace, in this sunlit
octave, I’m here.

Read Full Post »

The Diagnosis

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on January 5, 2019| 3 Comments »

 

 

 

Well, he said, I’ve seen it before.

You have all the symptoms.

Fairly common, actually.

You have life. It’s terminal.

I will give you, oh, about

forty years to live. Some people

really pull through, make the most

out of what they have left.

 

As he walked away, I listened

to his footsteps until all I could hear

was the sound of my own breathing.

God, it was beautiful, a tide, a river.

And that plant in the corner, have you

ever seen anything so delicate, so green?

Read Full Post »

Big Love

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on February 15, 2017| 2 Comments »

 

 

 

singing the same song

again and again—

each time, finding new wings

Read Full Post »

You’ve Felt It Too, Right?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on August 29, 2015| 1 Comment »

Some mornings, for no reason,

the world is newer. The color

of the grass, the scent of last night’s rain,

the feel of the lover’s skin.

Everything feels charged

and abuzz with itself.

You might say, and

I would not argue,

that the world and everything in it

is another day older.

Yes, of course, and there

is also this: the taste of this peach—

I have tasted peaches before—

but this one is so very peach,

so remarkably peach,

like something I have known

only very, very new.

Read Full Post »

Can You Hear Them?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on January 9, 2014| 1 Comment »

The snow begins
then stops to fall.
In the alley, brown
tracks run against the white.

The gray folds through the air
and unfolds. Nothing
about this day seems
capable of settling in.

It is a like a woman
thinking about what
she wants. The blossoms
of her thoughts open

like roses in fast forward.
They wilt and dry in similar
fashion. They are out of season.
This does not stop them.

Sometimes we like to think
we are waiting. Waiting
for something marvelous to happen,
or waiting for an ache to disappear,

or waiting for gray to be
something other than gray.
And sometimes we see what
a gift it is, this indecisive day,

this watching imaginary blooms
that seem so real you can almost
smell the red perfume, almost.
Outside the window,

it is snowing again. No,
not snowing. But the gray
it has settled in and now
the dirty tracks look

like empty staves and anyone
listening might hear through the glass
how the birds don’t wait
to fill in the space with song.

Read Full Post »

How Things Change

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 27, 2013| 2 Comments »

Useless the trail
I thought would take me back—
the crumbs are still there
but I no longer believe
in going back

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »