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Posts Tagged ‘unity’

Learning to Listen

Like every day
today

we wake up
naked

regardless how
many layers

we wear.
All day

we’re naked,
trying our best

to pretend
that we

are not.
There are those

who hear
right through

the shirts
the hats

the coats,
who hear

the words that
every heart

is beating
under vests,

and v-neck tees—
hold me,

hold me,
hold me,

let me
go.

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alongside the cliff
keeping pace with my car
the blue heron

*

flying blackbird
dead mouse in its beak
this too is peace

*

more wind
than woman
this flesh

*

midnight
even the whitest lilies
are blue

*

sharing breath
with the crow
the whole world is crow

*

in the nest,
two blue eggs
two wide brown eyes

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Adrift

I imagine myself
an empty vase
and you
the water,
the flowers,
the blooming,
the wilting,
the returning
of emptiness,
and you the crack
fine and growing
in the way
I thought
I could hold
you in.

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As salt dissolves in ocean, I was swallowed up in you beyond doubt or being sure.
—Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Glisten and wet lick
and thick river scent—
that is everything.

Swords. Shields.
Stories of who did what
to whom and when—

and all those hows, whether
divine or horrendous—
gone.

Even these words
you and me
reduce to vacant syllables

in the face of such
movement, such shine—
I could never explain but

it rushes in so clear
that whatever
we once thought

of as other is here
in the clamor
of snowmelt, here

in the river birch
waiting for green,
here in the shove of tumbling

breath as we realize wave
and lose
all we were sure of,

lose the path
that got us here,
lose even the loss of it.

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It rhymes,

this light
that shines
in me
each time
I shed
the shuck
of self,

rhymes with
this light
in you

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I drop
these stories
of who and how—
every barrier between us
crumbles

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stepping
into the morning sun
oh and oh!
so sweet to be
reminded

my own light
so little
and not
even
mine

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are you sharing it
with me, this
loneliness?

*

how do they do it,
those birds, keeping a course
through the gale
when even in this still, still room
I can hardly take one step

*

alone is more
alone than
I thought

*

as I fall
I feel how this, too,
is dancing

*

that small voice,
quiet as petals, says
why not be the one
who tears down any wall
that stands between two hearts

*

falling, falling,
I don’t know when I stopped
wanting to be caught

*

new snow in the field
the only tracks there
one woman dancing

*

they sure do mess up
the sheets—excitement
and grief

*

who is the one
that falls and who is the one
who notices her falling

*

midnight.
the power out, I make
of myself a light

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Tender Graffiti

In a dream,
the walls
of our one
giant heart
stretch beyond
the edges
of the dream
and in permanent marker
God has scrawled
all over them
with every color
i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you

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And when ten thousand
million
of us realize
our souls rhyme
what will we do then
with our guns
our hands

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That little boy
who isn’t mine, I hold him
like he is.

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Being human. It’s not what we think it is.
—Jude Janett

Sometimes when we hug
I swear the strands
of our DNA come unspiraled
and wrap themselves
around each other
as if to embroider
into our memory
the truth of how I
am you and you
are me and this
perhaps explains
why long after
we untangle our arms
and scents from each other
I feel how
what’s deepest in you
unfurls in me.

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two

field, thief, woman, stone,
there is nothing the falling
snow does not kiss

*

I could not bloom
for you until I opened
for myself

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you come too haiku

full moon
me and the cottonwood tree
one long shadow

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the unending, haiku

part dishwater, part
wine, this shared chalice of grief
and hallelujah

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and then melt tanka

as snowflakes
become one snow
let us know
each other—wholes
joined in a vaster whole

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How separate we act,
all of us hunched at our own
little tables, rounded over

our thin paper cups,
mumbling into our phones,
or leaning into our laptop screens

or hidden behind the news
stretched out in black and white.
We frown when jostled,

we scowl when bumped,
we grimace at the din
of communion as our

selves steep into the blur—
do you want sugar with that—
it is bitter, the cup, and so

very much what we came here for.

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