Traveling East

There are a few items
buried deep in the sands of June or early July
where the wishes of the heart live as treasures
to be uncovered by the friend of this constant soul.

I am clearing a space on the slate
and have scratched a few clues
on the cluttered walls of the mess of the mind
that will help the skilled seeker
to find shimmering truths about joy
and other watery emotions
that carry us all to the end
of all knowing.

The message is simple:

When I leave for the sea today,
bring only what is needed.

Thick towels, salty almonds,
quiet voices, laughter,
fancy fizzy water,
a low chair and a mat for stretching,
stories about love and losses,
the French press and dark coffee,
lavender shampoo and vanilla lotion,
silence,sea glass,sand dollars,
the journal for poetry,
the books to finally read,
tender glances and gentle hands,
basil, lettuce, and radishes from the garden,
cold white wine and good bread,
slow dancing,
butter for baking,
smooth cotton sheets and a soft pillow,
one rainy day for puzzles and naps,
heated sand,juicy gossip,
unexpected singing,
peaceful afternoon tea,
vivid dreaming,
the moon's embrace,
and something golden
like honey to hope for.

This map, this passage,
will make the way clear
to the delicate edge
of morning after morning
where love lives lightly.

The Winnowing

These summer days
my mind is like a busy toddler,

fingers linger on ideas not mine to touch,
the mouth is parched for knowledge
resisting nothing sweet,

wanting comfort

wanting

babbling
babbling
babbling

the constant flow of day dreaming
in the depths of bones healing
from wounds where battles have worn
everything thin.

Redirect this path with the storming heart
clearing the horizon of all of the chatter –
from this constant distraction,
like a wind winnowing the plump seeds from the nothingness
before the force of life takes root in the richness of the earth.

Hover

As if we mortals
have any say in the matter,
we preen and dance with delight
on this day of the shortest night.

As if we have actual leverage
negotiating at the horizon,
marking our territory in the pink glow
at the edge of all knowing
with imaginary fireworks
and shooting stars.

Hover here with me, my love.
Our blanket is warm
and the air lifts fresh mowing
like incense to all these forgotten glances.

Hover in the silence as we melt
into the earth holding tightly
to joy and are broken open

and where our stamina
is measured by all the ways
we let go of every thing.

Strawberries for Dessert

When June is ready to tip the light
toward the dark side of the year with bravado

we would rather banish to a slower plodding pace
like a flushed and blistered old woman walking home
from Sunday services

the sun follows her mechanical movement
of a toy wound too tight

and forgets that abundance
must slide and moan the birth sounds
of fat, juicy berries

and biscuits with whipped cream
slurping from a cold can

onto the plate of a small smiling boy
who forgets his manners and dips his fingers

into the delight
of strawberries for dessert.

Permeability

These rains fall
like joy into the open heart
of gratitude,
a cell of the soul
that pours in and out
of Love's cup
at the abundant table,

at the homecoming
of the Beloved
before the end
of the beginning,

before the nard must be used
on the body, dead and cold,
pour the oils onto His feet
without hesitation

so that these bodies
might fall together
into the permeable embrace
where we lose track
of the boundaries of limbs,
and skin, and hair,

open as a wide-eyed kiss.

Friday

Thank goodness
the world continues
to caress the edge of love

even when your chest
nearly bursts
with grief.

And God
is love
and loving us
all the while

waiting for us to look at each other
and nod in respect
for the flower of humanity
that blossoms
purple

like a crocus
breaking through the crust
of the last gray snow.

Simple Prayers

To all the other kneeling women of time,
to these beautiful souls who lifted simple prayers
when all others festered with fear
under the veil of skin and decomposed,

please sing to us now of anointed courage and light
straight as a young arrow to our sorrowful hearts.

Please speak with a true tongue
so that we might convert the unbelievers
to a path of released belief.

Please give us the strength to wait
and to sustain each other with chanting
and glorious silence

so that when we are wise enough to know
that we can roll away the stone ourselves
and confront the darkest places
so many others have known

the task will be as effortless
as flight.