Month: May 2016

To the Wolf, Lion and Bear

Poetry

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My hand in yours is scraped and bleeding, my knees are shaky, and my face is streaked with tears. This ledge we’re standing on is rocky and you’ve got, bruises on your shins, cuts on your feet. The climb has been steep and we are stronger than we believed, but I won’t pretend that your scrapes, or mine, are only from the sharp edges of stone.

Sometimes when I am sore and exhausted from the climb, I push and struggle on a narrow ledge with not enough room. Sometimes in my fear, I bump you,  jostle, and bruise. Sometimes in your hesitation you flail and I am winded by the impact of your nearness. Often we trip over each other’s feet.

We are not the type to find the easy path. We cannot be satisfied unless we are toes over the edge, wind in our face, hearts pounding with the possibility of flight. I get it. I am not unwilling to wear your blood and share your bruises, just don’t let go of my hand?

Hold on to me, and I will hold onto you. We may be unsteady, but whether we fall or fly, I can’t bear the thought of doing it without you.

—–

—–

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Water and Rock

Poetry

If you are stone, boulder,
earth, and grounding place
— then surely, I am water.
Your gravity pulls at me
centering my untamed flow.

I am a river, wild and free
–healer and witch,
mother and sorceress–
with the power to
create and destroy.

I carve your stone
with a thousand caresses,
wash and smooth to reveal
beauty in your layers–
as you yield to my love.

If you are the mountain
which does not move
—and you certainly are–
I am strength surrendered
to the weight of your love
cast into my depths.

—–

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My Monster

Poetry

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How do I tell you
about the ache I meet
when my day begins
–about how I feel
greedy and guilty
for the hunger in me?

How do I choose
the calm expression
the smile of generosity
when you reach for
another — and I love her!

In her I recognize
my need for you
— tell me what words
make that jealousy
un-monstrous and
embraceable?

—–

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Heaven with You

Poetry

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My fingers are smudged in color
–reds, golds, greens and blues
 –like I’ve dipped my hands into
endless galaxies and wiped 
a thousand stars upon my skirt.

My head is spinning with
the gravity of a dozen planets,
and I lean into the tidal pull
of at least that many moons.
When they rise across the sky–

will you raise your voice and
howl at them with me, while
a thousand shooting stars
light up the night, exploding
in the atmosphere of my flesh?

—–

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In the Rain

Poetry

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There are raindrops
in my coffee cup
and puddles
between my toes.
The sky is clouded
with questions and
I cannot even begin
the asking, because
I see in your stormy eyes
that you haven’t yet
captured the answers.
So, I sit watching water
pool in the bowl
of my upturned poem
and try not to slip into
the swiftly flowing stream,
that washes sand
from the place where
curb and street embrace.

—–

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Advice for Travelers

Poetry

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The road away from your door
will always sing a siren song.
There’s no use resisting.
So load your guitar and two
extra tires onto your bicycle.

You may miss your chance
to climb the distant tower,
but slip a stone into your pocket,
and you’ll find the right path–
one step and rock at a time.

Trees will no doubt invite you
to gaze into a magic mirror,
and renew some old promises.
Listen to the voice with the map —
it will nudge in the right direction.

Follow wings that swim circles,
and you may dance on the sand.
with an enchanting water-witch
–wet your bare toes in the scent
of rain on the summer wind.

When your bohemian feet grow tired,
gather up four corners of your heart.
Shake tangled doubt from your hair.
When you hear rhapsody on the road,
trust your voice to sing you home.

—–

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