Regret

You heal me—
burn bright
behind my eyes, each holy kiss
rearranging the cells,
all the molecules of a body
that has forgotten love.
This secret chemistry
heats inside us,
boiling at nuclear precision,
firing exactly
as predetermined instructions read. . .
iron of my blood
and oxygen of my breath
combine carbon
and silver rings around each finger—
encircling the lobe of an ear
and turns the mysterious
into solid, shining gold.

Purple flame, magic flame,
I have invited you in
to the sacred space of my heart.
Thankful transmutation
moves what cannot be moved
in one lifetime
into the spirit world.
This is not the lavender
or lilac of spring, but the eternal
color that permeates my soul.

You bring me closer to God.

I am a witness of your power
standing still at the entrance
to Nirvana.

Mark me with that white, cleansing heat.

* * *

How I resist this bond now,
the one forged in gold
that sits, staring in judgment
at me each day,
mocking the promises
I’ve made,
my hand heavy with regret.

Who was I then,
the woman with such certainty
of a future filled with abundant laughter
and a satisfied heart?

It was folly to wager on happiness,
knowing what I knew
about the statistics,
the imperfected formulas
for this kind of chemistry.

Today I want to cast off these invisible chains.
No one else can see them anyway.
There is no loss
that cannot be healed
by freeing myself from a false hope.

There is only freedom in the acknowledgement
of constant change.

* * *

Each waking these days
I am more and more aware
of what is right in front of me.

Each breath
a meditation.
Each step forward
an opening up of the universe--
to change that brings peace and hope to my heart.

If I concentrate with my eyes
on the dew forming into droplets
on a blade of grass
sliding down,
soaking deep into the earth
right outside my kitchen door,
or if I direct my heart
to open
to letting love rush in
like a great thunderstorm
waking me from my sleep

it is all the same.

I can’t ignore the calling to this prayer,
this place of steady, smooth sound.
I am a singing bowl
perched lightly on an elegant, red pillow
calling what can not be seen
home to the fire,
home to rest
for an eternity of knowing.
This is the truth
each soul is searching for
in a thousand lifetimes of searching.

I open my mouth,
smile,
and I am filled again
with undeniable love.