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Posts Tagged ‘dream’

Porosity




And so I learn I am porous—
learn I am not just dust,
but soil. Everything
moves through me.
I am not the container
I believed myself to be,
but a portion of earth
more other than self.

In a dream, I was told,
The body is permeable
to life and to death.

I want to remember
that voice. I want to remember
how it feels to be earth,
to know the self as both living
and dead.

I want to remember how absence
has never felt more holy,
how its sacredness is rivaled
only by the holiness of what’s here.

No separation, said the voice.
Remember.

I want to remember
the infinite dark inside
each infinite moment,
how both soil and time
are planted with stars.

Oh sweet teachings
that I cannot understand,
how they spiral out
like galaxies inside me,
how they slip
like loose soil through my hands.

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I wish you the peace of sleep,
your breath a canoe
that carries you
toward the next moment
without any need
for you to touch the oars.
How easily you arrive.

Oh, to trust the world like that—
trust you will be carried,
not just in sleep,
but in waking dreams,
trust no matter how high the waves,
the skiff of grace
has a seat for you.
And oh, to let go of the oars—
there is no steering
toward what comes next.

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Identity Check




When they asked
for my identity card
I looked in my purse
and found someone else’s.
And someone else’s.
And someone else’s.
But not mine.
But it’s me, I said.
I turned to my friends
so they could vouch for me,
but their word was not enough
to prove I was myself.
When I woke,
I leaned deeper
into my being, my breath
giving me what no card,
no word could do.
Even the flesh is a trick.
Oh, how the morning shines.

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One Feeding

and if I dare dream

let it include the facts—

the bite, the open hand

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Astonished

            with gratitude to Corinne Platt

In the dream, I am flying

over the red dirt roads

of the desert, flying through blue sky

beside dark cliffs and I realize

I can choose to fly right out of

the dream’s landscape

and into my life,

and though I’m scared,

I do, fly through blue until

I’m flying above myself

walking through aspen,

flying with no effort at all,

flying wide awake

with no fear of landing.

flying without a single should,

astonished to find

I’m enough.

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Second Chance

 

 

Next time the boy

throws the snow

at my face,

 

please let me see

an invitation

to play,

 

though it’s cold,

surprising,

his eyes bright requests.

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I woke up giddy, because

on rising, there was still

a world. Snow out the window,

and a window! And a cover

on the bed. And a bed!

And a body that ached

from the fall in the trees,

but dang, I had a body.

And it woke up! And yeah,

there is work to do, lots

and lots of work to do,

and love to make and

messes to clean, and

yes, here we are to do it.

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Ruth Dreams Me Safe

 

 

 

She’s in a thrift store in her dream,

and though her daughter

suggests it’s too big,

Ruth buys me a men’s suit coat,

something to keep me warm.

Later she tells me the real reason

she bought it: she knows

I need the arms around me.

Into one of the pockets,

she slips a check for $100,

then asks her daughter

to give it to me.

 

I find the coat in a message

Ruth sends me on Facebook,

where the pixels warm me

more than any wool, more

than any fleece, any down.

How easy it is to be generous,

sharing our dreams, our thoughts,

our hope. All night I stick my hands

in the coat pockets. They are deep,

warm, full of surprises.

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While I Was Sleeping

 

And while I was sleeping, dreaming yet again

of being on stage without knowing my lines,

my erector spinae muscles decided to wrestle

with bears and my rhomboids crash landed

after the parachute didn’t open. My levator

scapulae muscles lifted ten refrigerators and

my trapezii danced in stilettos for hours. Is it any wonder

I woke unable to move my neck? There are days

we realize just how grateful we are for parts

of the body we never could name

until today the bodyworker wrote them down,

how lucky we are to take them for granted.

There are days when we wake and realize

how much happens in our sleep. There are days

we think how much easier it would be

to just end up on a stage not knowing

our lines. Darn those bears. Darn those high heels.

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from a dream inspired by Sharon

 

 

And I tried. I tried.

Except steep hills. Except

stop signs. Except fear.

 

Then one day,

the brake simply

didn’t work anymore.

 

I thought perhaps

I’d forgotten which pedal

was the brake.

 

I tried flooring the pedal,

anyway, though I knew

it wouldn’t work.

 

At first, I hated it. Was terrified,

really. Then—right through

the intersection,

 

right down the steepest hill—

there it was, I was in it,

the flow, the flow.

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