Words

Without them
I feel lost
and unready to make my way
toward meaning.

The buttons are lost,
torn from the seams and away
from the convenient places
they used to fit.

I am left
looking at the blank sky
and waiting
for the moon
to rise
so that I might remember
the rhythm and the rhyme
that spell the words
that trace each letter
into the small
of my back.

I sweat
just thinking
of the ink
that dissolves
into the flow
of blood
under
this
skin.

Tarry Not

Spare me.

Listen to the lingering Soul
near the doorway

where you will leave me again
in this lifetime,

just like all the others,
hand on the window--

tapping as you catch my attention
on your way down the tracks.

It is like that
as the breath leaves a body.

The vapors of decay
suddenly sweet,

like wine,

and then the life
you have been living

is cradled in the arms
of  the angels of transition

and you are released
like a thousand petals

into the wind
where no memory

holds you to this place.

You are a child again
full of joy,

and the pain
you owned is given away

to another soul who,
like a fire burning at the candle's wick,

must do all that is possible
to snuff itself out.

Tarry not near the smiling  stories.
Make your way into the darkness
and find my hand.

Here I will promise you
never to cry again.

Morning

Jump with a lean force
into the keen view of morning.

Find clarity
not with reason
but with the wisdom
of heart and the healing
of a new day.

Slipping Away from Solstice

Savor these days of solstice
as the sun slips away,
swerving across the white line
of summer in the sky
toward oblivion
and back again,
sidling the truth
of winter
and the silvery slices
of the moon
and all these increasingly vibrant
stars.

Walk into the water
without shivering
and saddle the joy
that wakes
within.
Let the liquidity
of quiet surround you.

Sigh deeply
after you surface,
completely aware
of the subtle energy;
the pull of gravity
on the core of your body,
like the planets
coming into alignment
with God.

A Few More Days

Longing for the serene mind
that soothes the flapping flag
frayed with all these thoughts
bandaged again
with gauze and cool ointments
into the core of the wounds
carried from day to day.

Tip-toe from one cut
or gash to another bloody tear
and place the back of the hand
gently on the heat of the infection
until the skin is comforted
and relief is obvious.

Hold my hand
and tell me lovingly
that the end is not so near
that we can't find our way
toward joy
for a few more days
and let the sun
glow
lovely on
our cheeks as we drift
into sleeping
for a little while.

The Healing Place We Begin Again

Refresh the air with the prism of peace and let the ocean surge with such quiet power.
Prana, the force of life, is a place where
we all can meet under
the green calm of the fir
and understand the healing place
where we begin again.

Future

I am so full tonight

The world overtaking me with the will

and speed of asking too much.

Feeling cursed by what I know and by the ways

healing is not enough to make me whole again.

What if I could predict the future?

Flip a coin in the air-

silvery circles in flight to determine

my fate.  Not enough to bring

pure understanding

of every move that could be made

and universal knowledge

that would make us god and goddess

deciding on abundance and privation

just like every life

traced in the palm

of a single, lonely hand.