for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing
—Galway Kinnell, “Saint Francis and the Sow”
Body that held the bloom of the child
as it grew inside, grew from one cell
to two trillion cells, body that stretched
and leaked and ached and tore, body
that was on board for a miracle, thank
you. Thank you for stooping, for chasing,
for bending and cuddling, for creating milk
and spilling tears and falling asleep as you must.
How empty the arms now, how slow the pulse,
how tight the throat, how strong this urge
to curl into what is not here. How hard it is
to open, to meet the world anew.
And yet every day, you turn to what is real
and, how is it possible, the heart, it blossoms.
Posts Tagged ‘blossoming’
Impossible Change
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, body, loss, miracle, mother on February 9, 2022| 8 Comments »
Shade Loving
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, flower, shade, shadow on August 9, 2021| 4 Comments »
Bless the astilbe, the hellebore,
the hydrangea, bless the lobelia,
the bright impatiens—
it is no small thing to grow,
more notable still to grow in the shade—
to not only grow but to flower,
to bring color to the dark.
I take it to heart, the fuschia hanging
in the shadow, cascading
deep pink bells all summer long.
Oh tough beauty, teach me
the art of thriving in regions
where light is scant,
where light is not.
Teach me to bring to the world
the beauty
I wish to find.
Things that Bloom
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bloom, blossoming, uncertainty on April 20, 2020| 2 Comments »
I’m thinking of silence, how when it opens,
it changes the room with its fragrance.
How frost can make a garden
of a window overnight.
Old friendship—sometimes
even when we forget to water it,
persists like mint.
Fear, of course, is knapweed-ish,
tap-rooted, invasive. Almost impossible
to eradicate its petals of panic,
petals of dread.
Sometimes a name can bloom
on the tongue when the syllables
stem from someone we love.
And when we’re very still, the moment itself
seems to bloom, like a peony
revealing layer after tender layer,
charging the air with sweetness.
Now flower. Here flower.
The moon, that giant cream perennial,
reminds us nightly how we, too,
are called to grow our light
toward the dark.
And uncertainty, it comes to us
in giant bouquets, each bloom a question
that doesn’t want to be answered,
it wants only for us to hold it in our arms
like the gift it is.
Viola Tricolor
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, Corona Virus, death, flowers, medicine, showing up, spring, wildflowers on March 31, 2020| 2 Comments »
also known as Johnny jump up, heart’s ease, heart’s delight, come and cuddle me
Into the shade by the porch
bloomed the first wild pansy,
its small yellow face sunny
and eager and open.
The Athenians used to make
the tiny flowers into syrup
to moderate anger and
to comfort and strengthen the heart.
And here it is today,
small volunteer beauty,
growing in this patch of dirt
where nothing else wants to grow.
This tiny garden is but one of many
concurrent realities—others involve
hospitals short of beds, loved ones
gone, doctors scared to go home.
Our hearts need strengthening.
Little violet, we’re learning, too,
how to be surrounded by death
and still rise up, bring healing as we bloom.
One Inexplicable
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, poem, poetry on February 22, 2016| 4 Comments »
Even Blossoming
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged balance, blossoming, Erika Gordon, friendship, growing, poems, poetry, potential, yoga on March 25, 2012| 5 Comments »
Erika on the red mat
tucks her right foot in her groin
and bends forward from the waist
then lowers till she’s hovering
above her left tippy toes.
If you can’t follow
what I’m saying, that’s
because her body’s twisted,
furled and folded as a body seldom is.
But full of grace,
she brings her hands
to meet in prayer in front of her
and for a minute poises there,
a compact bulb with five small roots
and a patient shoot waiting
to push up and through.
It’s beautiful to stand beside
Erika on the red mat
to feel more than see
the rising energy as like
a tulip in the spring
she reaches not just up
but into the quiet balance point
where anything can happen.
five
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged blossoming, haiku, infinite, poem, puddles, sky, spirituality, uncertainty on January 11, 2012| 3 Comments »
impossibly, there
is in me enough sky for
these great blue wings
*
in these dark halls
I wander the meadow
unfolding inside me
*
your
blossoming my
blossoming
*
you look so funny said
the goose, as I lurched to
avoid the puddles
*
lost, at last
now I can get on
with my life
two
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged adios drama, blossoming, growth, haiku, poem, reality on January 10, 2012| 5 Comments »
we are like roses
in winter—we should not be
blooming but we are
*
when I don’t need the
storm, I fold it up and put
it in my pocket