When He Called My Name

When he called my name
I was drunk with incense, oils,
and the volume of loss,
my heart searching everywhere
for the warmth of a body
gone cold.

When he called my name
I imagined illusion
and the way the mind plays tricks
like a hand grasping for something stable
to prevent a fall, the quizzical game
with no quick answer to questions.

When he called my name
it took everything the teacher had taught me
to conquer my fear of all that I did not know,
to dismiss my doubt, look at the risen man,
and to answer in the voice I was trained
to lift up.

When he called my name
I cast off my blindness
and walked for the first time
into the brilliance of God.

Simple Flight of Souls

Swing widely and disturb the eternal
like another angel on the trapeze who releases herself
into nothingness.

It doesn't take much pressure
or prayer after the gasp of relief
to believe that love is a simple flight of souls
when you watch beauty dance
in the coming and going of birds at first light
from the edges of protection
into the vulnerability of space.

Take your pen
and write on the blank pages of your diary
about forgiveness and perhaps the Beloved
will respond with a smiling truth.

Know your heart
and what devotion requires
and you will never launch skyward
alone.

Moon Rise

One day flannel will not be armor
used as a guardian of buttons

and instead be ready to explore
the broken jigsaw puzzle of quiet
and moons that rise after
the fire is started.

The radio will play music
to dance to
and the stars
will forget themselves
and fall down
like rain.

Unscarred

How I long for the succulent kiss
of a spring without cold breath
of wind on my neck.

Where is the temple of warmth
and longest days
that hush me without warning
to the craft of relaxation
and mindful relief?

Break my longing from the burl
in the bark of the maple
and let my joy ooze like sap
from the wound
until I heal
in the sun
unscarred.

The Currency of Survival

When the embargo on happiness was announced
it was more than anyone could withstand
without a descent into a darkness
from which there was no returning.

It wasn't long before the most coveted possession
was laughter and a song sung with others.

This music of mind and soul
warmed us like the newly washed fleece of lambs
and was softer than a child cooing
at the breast of her mother.


This laughter was gold
and the currency of survival.

To Exhale

In France,
or maybe Montreal,
I will smile more

over strong coffee
and buttery croissant
with apricot jam
and unsalted fat.

My walk will bounce elegantly,
buoyant as a dancer
and with joyful purpose.

Astride this romantic culture
I will fall in love,
skip vowels
with wine soaked ease

and exhale like a contented smoker
at the denouement of each blessed day.

Alone, for my Own Good

Drain me
of all that is not alive,
like a corpse
left with
arteries open,

the trapdoor
to the soul

empty.

Anesthetize my heart
and leave me alone,
solitary and abandoned
for my own good
in the impoverished body
where light excavates love
from bones

sun bleached
and forgiven.


Teach me
to swim in heaven
with my lungs breaking free
of this horizontal plane

taking easy breaths
from the smooth surface
of God's sweet ocean
and awake in the waters
of that much divinity.