Calling Out My Name

Biding my breath,
I have been waiting far too long
in the shadows of my head
to be honest.

But the mist and these abundant bird songs
remind me of days when I was a maiden,
chaste in thoughts undefiled by anger
or worry of the discovery of my hidden gifts.

This inspired thinking is brash
as it dares to step into the open meadow
and announce itself
like the bells ringing
in a clear voice

without apology
for calling out
a name given to me
by the goodness
of universal kindness
and unconditional love.

Getting Somewhere

What difference does this abrupt undulation,
this current of smooth radiation of a smile
and the balm of loving kindness make?

What difference if I levitate a little
when I walk in a spell under a small invasion of joy
with my hands submerged in the morning dishes and eyes
tracing the edges of bleeding hearts peeking over the deck

crouched and at the ready to disappear
at the slightest friction; sparks of unpleasant radio news,

tremors of the invasion we hoped would never arrive.

Rather let us notice the explosion of spring chanting freedom,
the waft of pink voiced apple blossoms off the veranda--

a chronicle of the evolution of fruit and women marching
on their way to harvest,

arms swinging at the urgency
of getting somewhere fast.

Storm Raging

This storm rages like a giant suffocating
and finally gasping the entire vermillion sky
in one long and angry breath.

The defiant thoughts implanted in rain
and pine-shattering wind
will not be traded in a commerce
that continues pleading for leniency
against nature's flashing justice.

Regret nothing
and gather your beloved
as if you will not wake to find
another day.

Regret nothing
and open your eyes
to the violent dreaming night.

On the Night I Emptied My Womb

The fever of the spirit of God
and the allure of relief
over took me on the night
I emptied my womb.

I did not sway from the truth.
I was not ready
for the brevity of life
and so I chose, instead, to escape.

Escaped pathetically like a prophet
who would not accept
the order from heaven
to serve.

I am cast
again and again
from the side of the ship
and will be swallowed up
by the voices of angels
singing in languages
I will never understand.

Surfers Waiting

Look past this cleve;
this deep misunderstanding,
and I will gird myself--

like one who must itch that itch
at the end of one's nose
or on the elbow during deepest meditation,
or at the place where wisdom meets the heart,

and we will bob on the ocean,
surfers waiting for the wave,
and ready to meet the water with courage and fascination

with the salty green of prana
and the universe calling us home.

Universal Yes

Finally, spring has absolved us of our transgressions as frost melts and dissolves into the leaves that will evolve into the longest days. This carousel of a planet tingles at the brush of the rain; the embrace of the sun who was embarrassed to evolve astride the light. Now her face is a tower on the horizon. The brilliance breaking the withered and weary into dancing bits of laughter. Giggles and spasms of joy in the presence of green and blossoms buxom and bold. Finally, the earth revolves toward the universal yes of abundance.

Gravity Sings

Gravity sings to me on days like today, where the way the sun collects in the tender cells of my terminal skin is bitter sweet, Dreary profits who want me stranded in fear, parched and pinched in bitterness, a wastrel of myself where the pulse of energy I feel in the morning is severed from the beauty of apple blossoms and distant from the joy, aloft like a kite or a bird just flying above the ridges because she can, I test the wind on these days and launch away from the heaviness of bones and into the sky just at the edges of leaves at the edge of the horizon of so much light at sunrise caught in the mirrored presence of a single droplet of night collected for bees to drink as sweetest tea.