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Posts Tagged ‘transformation’

Bonfire in the Heart

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on December 24, 2020| 6 Comments »


 
I throw in any tallies
I’ve been keeping,
the ones that record
who did what and when.
I throw in all the letters
I wrote in my head but didn’t send.
I throw in tickets I didn’t buy
to places I didn’t visit.
I throw in all those expectations
I had for myself and the world last year
and countless lists of things I thought I should do.
I love watching them ignite,
turn into embers, to ash.
I love the space they leave behind
where anything can happen.

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A Little Pep Talk

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on December 9, 2020| 2 Comments »

The swirling ash

doesn’t try

to be become

log again.

The flying leaves

don’t attempt

to return

to the tree.

The girl

can’t untwist

her genome

back into

separate strands.

The flour

in the bread

can’t return

to the sack,

can’t undo

the kneading

of hands.

In all things

lives a memory

of letting go

and the chance

to transform

into what

it can’t know.

What do you say

to that, heart?

Good self,

what do you say

to that?

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Transformation

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 17, 2020| 9 Comments »

You need a rainstorm.
            —Paula Lepp


I need a rainstorm
on the inside, the kind
that relentlessly pours,

the kind that rearranges
everything, leaves nothing
untouched. I need a deluge

that drowns out any voices
that would offer easy answers.
I need a cloudburst to flood

everything I think I know,
that carries me until I, too, am current.
Have I gotten so dry inside,

so brittle and sure?
Give me a gulley washer,
the kind that scours

and remakes its path as it flows.
I want it, and yet
when I feel the first drops

I scramble for the umbrella,
as if it would do any good.
There it is, petrichor—

earthy fragrance of change.
The big rain will come when it comes.
There will be no stopping it then.

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On the Edge of Transformation

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on March 20, 2020| 6 Comments »

IMG_0984

 

When it was a branch

on the cottonwood tree,

the driftwood never imagined

it could travel—

and now look at it, softened,

smoothed, riding the current.

Oh heart, what have you

yet to imagine?

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Practice, More Practice

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on January 27, 2020| 3 Comments »

 

 

And if I snap at you about the soap

in the wrong place or the toaster

not being put away or how we

are late, it is simply that I have forgotten

the inner spaciousness of everything.

I have forgotten the poem inside everything.

 

And if I mutter and pace and stiffen,

if I prickle and fuss and pout,

it is because I simply do not remember

how essential it is to let myself

be broken, how a sweet alchemy

is happening in me even now.

 

There are days when I lose sight

of how beautiful it is, this chance

to get things wrong, this gift

of making mistakes so that I might learn.

And all that I don’t yet know grows wings—

it will choose when and where it lands.

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One Freedom

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on September 6, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

 

 

sitting with flowers in the garden

until I am

flower in the garden

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If Only All Change Were So Easy

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 28, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

 

 

dancing in the downpour—

the same woman who an hour ago

didn’t want to get wet

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Transformation

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on June 27, 2019| 2 Comments »

 

 

And again the world tumbles me

and again I emerge smoother, softer,

less sharp, less whole. Someday I will be

less solid, less myself, more a part of everything,

more a grain of sand that knows itself as one of many, easily

moved by the current, until finally, I

am less sand, more sea.

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Why I Like Singing the Same Concert Six Times

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 3, 2019| Leave a Comment »

 

for Heartbeat

 

 

singing

the same song,

again,

but this time

the melody

finds in me

a closed,

forgotten place

and sings light

into its tightness

until where

there were walls,

now wings

 

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Becoming Crystalline

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on December 8, 2018| Leave a Comment »

 

 

 

Forgive me. I do not mean

to be sharp, stark, sterile.

I’ve read of the salt mines

 

at Salzburg, how if you throw

a stick, leafless and dead,

into one of the abandoned workings,

 

then return months later and pull it out,

it will be covered in crystals,

“a galaxy of scintillating diamonds,”

 

writes Stendahl, “the original

branch no longer recognizable.”

I want to be like that stick.

 

Take my winter soul

and throw it into the mystery,

though it’s dark and cold

 

and easy to get lost.

What knows how to attract

the light will grow, will change me

 

until I barely recognize myself.

I do not mean to be short,

but I hear it in my words.

 

Stranger things have happened.

What is dead is sometimes

a chance to find new life,

 

to become a thing shining,

something the same, only fresh,

a thousand times more brilliant.

 

 

 

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