Beside the purple lupine
she says, “The thing I most
don’t want to talk about—”
and then, with a sigh,
she talks about it,
and the path and the wild iris
and the bear bell and I
all listen as she meets
what she most wishes not
to meet. There are moments
when we step right up
to the line that delineates
the world that is and the world
as we wish it would be,
and no matter how much it hurts,
there is such relief in meeting the truth
that I swear as she spoke
the world was even more itself—
the lupine more purple,
the sky more blue,
and my heart more a heart
because of her courage
to take off her mask
and says this, this is what’s real.
Posts Tagged ‘courage’
Walking with Lisa to Horsefly Mesa
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, conversation, courage, friendship, truth on May 23, 2022| 6 Comments »
Why I Wear Tall Brown Boots Every Day
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged boots, courage on March 5, 2021| 3 Comments »
In my tall
brown boots
I can walk
into any room,
any fear,
any graveyard
any loss.
I zip up
those tall
brown boots
and I become
a woman
I trust,
a woman
who knows
how well-protected feet
somehow make
it easier
for the heart
to stay open.
In my tall
brown boots,
I could even
meet betrayal,
could shake
that two-faced hand
and know
where I stand,
could walk
toward love
no matter which
way I walk,
could walk
ever closer
to myself.
Lesson from the Ouzel
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, courage, despair, ouzel, showing up on January 7, 2021| 5 Comments »
Sometimes I want to be anywhere but here,
but today, I let myself feel it all.
I go to the river covered in ice,
and move along the bank until
I find the open places where the dark-feathered ouzel
chooses to submerge in the cold, cold water—
It doesn’t hesitate to plunge into frigid depths.
It knows it was made for this.
After Reading the Headline About Rising Deaths
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, Corona Virus, courage, garden, resilience, song on May 4, 2020| 3 Comments »
Today I take the courage I don’t feel
and the resilience I doubt and
all my unspent longing to serve,
and I bring them, cupped in my hands,
to the garden. They nestle there in my palms
like three baby birds that have not yet
opened their eyes. I take them to hear
the pungent song of the garlic shoots
and the thriving chives who chant
how to survive the winter.
I bring them to hear the strawberry leaves
who sing how to flourish despite the frost.
and the old song of chicken manure
and composted grass that hum about
how old life begets new life.
And they open their tiny beaks,
as if they could eat the green song.
How vulnerable they are.
So I open to the song, too.
I do what must be done.
I take in the nourishing song,
and feed them with my own mouth.
Wishing I Were Stronger in the Face of Grief
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged courage, mint, strength, tea on April 7, 2020| 4 Comments »
Tonight, courage is the voice
of the mint tea as it lends its strength,
its green to the water.
It’s no small thing
to infuse something else
with warmth, with sweetness.
All day, I’ve wanted to be bolder.
All day, I’ve felt unsure
of what comes next.
The mint says yes, says drink,
says rest. Says, a small kick
can do a lot. The mint says,
one way to get stronger
is patience. It soothes me,
it helps me to sit
and feel what I feel
this smooth tea—
subtle, strong enough.
Tonight I Pray for All the Doctors, Nurses, Health Care Workers
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Corona Virus, courage, doctor, uncertainty on March 21, 2020| Leave a Comment »
And tonight I think
of the seventeen Italian doctors,
dead. And the hundreds
of thousands of people
whose test results were positive.
And all the doctors, nurses,
health care workers—
some right here in our town.
I think of them eating breakfast,
reading the same discouraging news,
then kissing their loved ones,
putting on their shoes,
and walking out the door,
though resolution’s as elusive
as last month’s peace—
the peace we didn’t
even know we had.
Should We Tell Her?
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged courage, failure, love, poem, poetry, tightrope on February 22, 2018| 2 Comments »
Somewhere in my heart
there is a tiny woman
with a crimson scarf
and hair pulled back
who is balancing
on a tightrope—
she has not yet learned
that it is okay
for her to fall,
that the net
will always catch her,
so she keeps doing
the same boring walk
back and forth
thinking how brave
and how proficient
she is at staying
on the rope,
never learning
she could also
jump and swing
and leap and twirl and fall
and get back up.
Easier with a Friend
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bravery, courage, friendship, poem, poetry, skiing, terza rima sonnet on February 19, 2018| 4 Comments »
for Corinne, skate skier extraordinaire
The meadow was a violent scourge of white,
and still we chose to leave our cars and ski.
The wind and blowing snow obscured our sight,
lashed through our hats and stole our breath, but we
leaned into it and laughed, as if the storm
were nothing more than an excuse to be
more brave, more willing to eschew what’s warm
so we might face our fear, find joy in risk—
and sure enough, I felt myself transform
from nervousness to animated bliss—
and we for hours skied amidst the gusts
and for that time, knew nothing more than this:
to meet the crazy storm. When scared, to thrust
ourselves into the howling world. And trust.
Before She Goes Out, She Goes In
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged activism, courage, inner life, meditation, poem, poetry, self care on May 5, 2017| 2 Comments »
When her voice is weary
it means it is time to listen.
When her armor is heavy,
it means it is time to be soft,
time to slip out of her certainty
and her battle songs,
time to retreat from the lines
she has drawn, time to unknow
the world she thinks she knows
and to find herself in the world
that knows her. She lets the darkness
penetrate her, it caresses
her universal curves. Her quiet
joins her to an infinite quiet—
she is everything, nothing at once.
She relearns how vulnerability
transforms us in ways
ferocity can not.
She is her own fertile seed.
She is her own desert rain.
She’s her own cocoon, her own inner cave.
Sometimes it takes the darkness
to remind us how to be brave.
If There Were Such a Maker
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged courage, ferocity, glove, poem, poetry on November 16, 2016| 1 Comment »
The maker of gloves
is busy now. She knows
there are many hands
to sheath, much weeding
to be done. All the paths
of the garden are overrun
by brambles. The fountains
are covered in thorns.
The disarray didn’t happen overnight,
but in our present haste
to make things quickly right,
we’ve arrived with eager hands bare
and now they are bleeding, numb.
Attuned only to beauty,
how tender we’ve let
our hands become.
The maker of gloves
does not waste any time
tsk tsking. She starts
right in on her knitting,
infusing each stitch
with courage, ferocity.
Do not be surprised
when her gloves
arrive at your door.
Slip them on. They are
not for ornament.
She has made
them so you will feel
invincible. It’s not true,
but you must believe it.
The time for hard work has come.