Resemblance

This oaken society,
this meeting of earth and mind,

quickens in a belly
ready for birth
at the root of all things
from a single seed,

ready to clear the mist
of ignorance and fear

away from the eyes
and point toward clear thinking

and the path
to the way
where we are  fully wake
from all dreams
that have become blackened
as skin left to mend after a wound,

lifeless as a motionless lung,

from not  enough
of any awareness
of anything that resembles
loving kindness.

Nothing but Their Silences

Dare to come closer
and I will invite you
to the place where my chin trembles
and whitening lips tighten
to keep the truth of everything
from streaming down my cheeks,

tears dripping
from the tremors
of my chin
crippling my voice--
unable to speak without breaking.

We are lost, my dear,
if we can't confide in each other--
if we can't look one another in the eye
and speak without reservation
about all we have shared.

This is what we women do
when we are brave as our mothers
who had nothing but their silences.
This is when we hold each other by the hand
and whisper what can not be said
out loud.

Slinking Toward the Beauty

Thoughts shreik 
in the back of my brain,
the uncontrollable children
naughty with too many words and
the mind shrouded in false wisdom
like a boastful man
slinking toward the beauty
of understanding.

I am lost in all that noise;
the clattering and chattering
of teeth and tongue
toward meaning
that is meaningless.

Instead, let peace waft
over the surface of consciousness
like fog rising up from the river
or smoke from a fall fire.

Here, around this simple flame,
the observer takes control of the situation
by letting the ego burn
like karma finally released
into the night sky.

Slouching my Way Towards Sleep

Slouching my way towards sleep
I drift quiet
with only my thoughts
to keep me from walking
to the edges of green

mowed and bristling grasses
beckoning for happiness
to come close

stretch supine
and relaxed
on my back.

Stretching

My mistakes are accrued
in the spaces between the bones
of my spine.

Lumbar seizing
with memory of wrong moves
and words that might have gone
unspoken.

Today I stretch
in a pose
that twists
and turns around
like the vine
of a morning glory
seeking the sun
with my purple blossoms
of hope.

Bones of a Tree

 Listen to the leaves rattle,
the bones of a tree
blessed with so much strength

so vibrant
even the decay of fall
can't detract from the beauty
of bark and branches.

Don't be afraid of acorns
and on cold days
rest your body near that roughness
of the great spread of wings
and breathe
until you feel the spirit shutter
with the life of earth

mined from the soil
and plucked
from the sky

like love or sadness,
so close to God ,
so sweetly given
at the end
of a barren
and broken day.

The Numbness of Water

Skating in February
I dreamed of leaps
and grace above the cold gliding;
the scrapes that would freeze
solid along the river,

freeze at the seam of the banks
of that northern place
near Canada and the superior lake.

But  I fell through
the crust of crystal
and cracking  on the Rum River
where the sun was strong enough
to ruin bright days--

let me fall through
to the numbness
of water--

hips and legs soaking,
aching for more
as I slipped
into the white boot
of my simple skates
to keep from drowning
in all that glowing snow.