Atonement

How does one atone
for the days
when you grit your teeth
and let the knot in your belly
spill bile
into the spite you carry
like prayer beads
through your days?

Count the errors,
the harm,
the harsh words,
the deeds done
and left undone,
one sin at a time,
and you will know
your suffering
a thousand times over.

Here you are a shadow of yourself
that joy forgot to cultivate
and that laughter
will never truly find.

Give it away,
this ill gotten treasure,
this inheritance of grief,
Give it all away to the passing breezes
where no thought stays for long
and be free to walk away
into the arms of the beloved.

Singing Prayers

I chant
loving kindness
with the Master.

Metta  
May you be safe and protected.
May you be strong and healthy.
May you find love and peace.
May you live at ease and with so much joy.

My voice directs my prayers
to sail to the ears of God
as my heart,
the magnet for all suffering,
releases the pain gathered
in a fire that warms us
and takes the shiver
from the lonely nights.

Metta 
May you be safe and protected.

May you be strong and healthy.

May you find love and peace.
May you live at ease and with so much joy.
I see you
and I bow, brow to the earth,
knowing this illusion
will fade
and flow away
like the river
takes the petals
of summer
to the sea.

Om Namo Bagavate Vasudevaya.

Om
Om
Om

Subsume

This trial

of the setting sun

where the skies suffer

with light;

flashes with color

and a hint of the man

in the moon,

with his knowing

and all that wisdom,

is almost more than

I can endure

after so much darkness.

I would do anything

to ascend those stairs

and be subsumed

by the strength

of that body.

But my bones are weak

from bearing the weight

of others and their stories

of so much pain.

I ache for

renewal.

I look at the

waxing moon

and wail

for the next 

world to come.

Letting Go

This curtain,
white and beautiful,
is my respite;

the quiet swish
of all that pursues
my mind,

makes the thoughts scurry
and rush through the days
and the nights.

I am a woman in thrall
to the promise
of small steps

toward understanding,
the peace of solving puzzles,
and finding

that nothing
can be free
that is offered
with a smile.

Only the bowing act
of prayer
and the curve
of the expanding heart,
or perhaps the dusty foot
on the path,

make it possible
to let go.

Untitled

I bristle at the ways I have tangled myself
into trust.

My lip quivers at the truth
pleading to release
all the fear and anger
at what I must see.

There is nothing to figure out
on this path along the waters
where negotiation is lost among the rushes.

Release all that holds me to the thorns
and thistles.  Let me sink into the flowers
and the enchantment of everything
that sets me free.