2/15/10 I Float, I Fall
Snow falls repeatedly
in a weekly pattern,
covering over.
Clearing away,
small areas
reveal themselves,
then the falling again.
I fell from the stars,
all is foreign,
I am always homesick,
but trying to pay attention,
to why I’m here.
Beauty keeps me
in its spell,
my soul
floats to earth,
and gathers,
mystical white.
It clears a little
and something
is revealed,
something is discovered
underneath.
Somewhere flowers bloom,
the stars twinkle,
I float, I fall.
1/9/10 The Sky is My Monastery, the Forest My Cathedral (this was "given" if you will--but not sure I'll leave in "thee" :)
The sky is my monastery
the forest my cathedral
and so I must
constantly go to church
to seek,
throughout the world
all the places
of sublime beauty,
and like them
must mimic
divine light,
not doing anything
but just be
who I am
along with thee.
Beholding is enough
that we might
support each other
in wordless devotion
hearing the music
of love and beauty
and the life-force
that springs from thee,
to me, and back again.
This is my quest
and how I am free
which delightfully, brings
joy to thee, and
therefore to me.
This is a new time
and I no longer need
to be a sacrifice
labeled a virgin, or a whore,
burned at the stake,
thrown into prison,
or over the wall
of Edingburgh castle
into the North Sea.
That’s over.
I am healed
and not afraid
to be me and free
from religion and politics
and misogyny.
I can heal you too
by just being me.
though to speak it
sounds crazy.
No words then
I will mimic divine light
and just be.
with the forest as cathedral,
and the sky as monastery.
6/20/10 The Earth Rotates, Clouds Pass By
Years go by
and I am still transfixed
by the earth rotating.
From this perspective
it seems the puffy clouds
float by and the planet
is still, yet it’s not.
I am the one moving,
The clouds are moving too.
The fact and the metaphor
still surprise me,
perhaps when I feel dizzy
there is good reason
that I cannot see
at first.
All is motion after all.
Perhaps if I feel
stillness and sameness
boredom with myself
there is movement
that is almost imperceptible.
How could I think
anything is still?
7/18/10 In the Midst of Summer
In the midst of winter
one cannot remember summer
It’s a foreign thing,
so spring dancingly
lets us in.
And in summer it is
usually the same,
but this summer
I do remember
being covered over
with many snows
buried in beauty,
wonder, and fright.
The weather god
let us have it.
In this appearance of heat
sticky, constant, sweat,
there is another existence
like the Celts believed
that other world lives
side by side
easy to step
from one to the other.
In the imagination
the other comes back
in a moment.
