Archive | Poetry

For the lost.

It is okay
to be lost.

Know this.

There will be days/
weeks/
months/
years

when all you can do
is kick the dust down the road

or sit and do nothing
but watch the trees

or scream into the air
even though it’s only you there.

You may notice that
your life has lost its color
not even the dingy gold of sepia
is offered to you;
only grayscale.

It is still okay
to be lost.

They (‘they’) will not give you any points
for being lost

But what do points get you anyway?
Nothing soul nourishing
nothing truly useful

And being lost is more useful
than perhaps we ever
admit.

Sometimes you will be lost in work
but safe in love

Sometimes you will be lost in love
but safe in your room

Sometimes you will be lost in the
small
.
daily
.
struggles
.
but safe in the structure they provide.

Sometimes you will be lost in your own breath
but safe in someone’s arms.

It is still okay
to be lost.

Because

//I promise you//

you will find your way again.

You will be different.
Life will be different.
There may still be no color
(because sometimes there is no going back)
but you will find your way again.

We are lost
over and over
in life.

Over and over.

Better to learn how ‘lost’ works;
a map with strange layers
[the soul is a palimpsest]
where old markings
take you a new way
every time.

It is okay
to be lost.

 

Photo by Michael Liao on Unsplash

 

 

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With each footfall…awaken

Yesterday’s post about sweat (and exercise) reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years ago about running. One of the most sensual experiences I have ever had was running in a warm, soft rain. I can still recall the exact feeling of the rain on my skin and the way my body moved through it. I felt like sex itself, honestly. What a gift and a pleasure it is to move the body.

::: ::: ::: :::

Ode to an Autumnal Morning Run

I am not fleet of foot,
Like Artemis or Athena.

I run like a beast;
My compact body hits hard.
I am Atalanta’s adept;
Solid and capable
Learning to fight my own battles.

I used to run in quarters,
Afraid of what I could not do.
Quarter minutes.
Quarter miles.
Quarter runs.

But my goddess body knew better.
Now I run in thirds.
In halves.

On my path, the bittersweet covers the trees
As fear used to cover me.
Pulling at my life, and letting me hide.

Like Persephone I rise from my grave of fear
Wipe the dirt from my eyes
Spit it from my mouth.
I learned in the dark-
I learned of my dark.

I am no longer scared-
The dark is sacred, too.

I see my serpentine self everywhere as I run
the sinuous vines and branches.
I feel her, too
Sensually winding
Undulating
As feet, ankles, knees, and hips roll forward
Aware of the shift of each movement
Both ecstasy and pain

My heart throws itself against my rib cage
Not just from the work of running
But also for the aspen leaves
So dense with yellow
I want to eat them
So rich red and fiery orange
I would paste them to my skin
And make more beauty of my sweating messiness.

I breathe
I breathe
I breathe
This I was also afraid of

I have breathed so many of the wrong things
Into myself

But running has made me strong.
Strong enough to breathe without fear.
Strong enough to endure.
Strong enough to finish.

And to start again
With each footfall
Awaken
Awaken
Awaken

::: ::: ::: :::

I still run, but only in the Summer and early Fall on our local bike path. In the winter I’m a cyclist, which isn’t quite the same, sensually. Either way, I’m glad to be living in a body that loves to move and can do so with ease.

 

 

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mood.

if you deserve
honey
mine will flow from my arms to yours
no effort, no asking.
but, if there is none
and
you feel wind instead.
know
that my spirit already
senses that
when you smell sweetness
you
begin harvesting blades in your hands.

– kindness is a form of intelligence

| nayyirah waheed |

::: ::: ::: :::

This is what it
is to be wild
Wild is the strange
pull and
whispering wisdom.
its the gentle nudge and
the forceful ache. It is
your truth, passed down
from the ancients, and the
very stream of life
in your blood. Wild
is the soul where passion
and creativity reside,
and the quickening
of your heart. Wild
is what is real, and
wild is your home.

| Victoria Erickson |

::: ::: ::: :::

Tantra is one of the most important secrets ever discovered. But it is very delicate because it is the greatest art. To paint is easy, to create poetry is easy, but to create a communion with the energy of the other, a dancing communion, is the greatest and most difficult art to learn.

| Osho |

{{ i do enjoy practicing, though. }}

::: ::: ::: :::

At the peak of our stuckness, we habitually long for a sign that will stand out and call to us. We desire a signal or confirmation of the next right step or choice.

We long for inspiration and desire to return to our lives, when we feel desperate and depleted in the mundane.

The richness we crave lies in our ordinary, everyday lives. Cultivating awareness in each moment invites the possibility for deeper experience.

Intention and conscious alertness in our daily tasks, invites space for the aliveness we miss. Noticing details provided by our senses, being with the moment, and switching perspectives can all incite a magical spark.

| Gina Angelini |

::: ::: ::: :::

 

::: ::: ::: :::

Quest

Take me past
the guarded place
in you
where confusion
covers itself
in unrelenting confidence
then marches on
in lively steps.
Take off the facade
let it fall away
into nowhere
Turn around and face me
I search the infinite depth
where beyond all entrenchments
I find your thirst
to be met
and understood
the sadness in your bones,
the want of your silent cries
to be heard
and be known-
abiding within those
unseen landscapes
is a world of precious
dreams.
Let me touch where
the battle wounds
lie quietly healing-
Buried beneath
an armored sheath
rests a lifetime of love
and loneliness,
blame and triumph,
honor and defeat.
Within this blended web
of scars and treasures,
glistening with honey,
there you are-
I found you,
beneath the soldiers plated heart.
So loosen the knots around my own
see all its agony bared and mending
and in between each open space
we’ll breathe upon the frailty.
All the wishful longings to be had
bring to me yours
as I meet you there with mine.

| Susan Frybort |  Hope is a Traveler

 

 

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Full Moon in Scorpio

I’m late again! Sorry, friends. It’s been a weird week.

My friend, Melissa Kaiser, made a beautiful graphic for this full moon. And she asks:

How deeply, intimately, fully are you connected with your heart? How connected are you to what you love? Open, she says, to the full expression of what you love and who you truly are. 

God, that feels so good- I’m so there, right now. Delicious.

 

 

Chani Nicholas writes:

Being alive means engaging in a continual process of transformation. Nothing in the natural world stays the same. Everything shows signs of being in relationship with its environment. Trees cannot deny the effects of a forest fire. Rocks do not try to hide the smoothness that results from the relentless pounding of waves upon them. Icebergs do not feign being untouched by the rising temperatures of our planet.

Yet we humans try to defend ourselves against the inevitable changes. Aging. Loss. Grief. We spend so much of our resources chasing some external solution to our internal discomfort. We have such difficulty sitting with the feelings that, if felt all the way through, could renew us. Release us. Transform us. 

Our transformation depends on our ability to sit with and accept the feelings that arrive with the truth. Not our version of how we wish life would be and not the version of reality that we need to be true in order to justify how we are living. Just the honest truth. How it lands with us in this moment. What it means for our life. Right here, right now.

I think I might have been born in the wrong sign. Scorpio feels more like me, if this is what it’s about. Click her name to read the rest of the post- it’s great.

 

And lastly, it’s not about the moon, it’s about nodes. (I don’t pretend to understand this, I just know it resonates.) From my fave, Bairavee Balasubramaniam:

There´s been an incredible amount of energetic spring cleaning as we´ve been asking to disconnect from things that no longer serve or resonate with us (as we perceive it to be). Sometimes this leads to healthier choices, and sometimes it leads to deeper delusion.

That´s up the individual and how they choose to walk their path…

When you see that Love has fire and teeth just as it has softness and surrender …. those neat little categories dissolve instantly. And unconditional love can just as easily hold you in warmth and connection, just as it can boot you out of its space, wishing you well from the core of its soul.

Too true.

That’s it for now. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately- my own interfaith training and how magic works and decolonization of the latter. More later, loves.

Best wishes from the trail,
Joanna :: xoxo

 

 

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The Laughing Heart

by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

 

 

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