roots and wings

This is a poem about a piano.

A piano that arrived late,

And perfectly on time.

A piano carrying root energy that settled into my home like a long lost friend- on the day I was rushing across town, between clients, 

at the last minute,

To fetch my visa.

A visa that will take me, on giant grey wings,

Further than I have ever been before.

Last night,

when I closed the packed case,

I found myself whispering,

I'm going to Canada, Mom.

And as I write this, I am sad with longing for her. The grief lifts thoughts and memories from my heart.

And I remember, that her piano books are buried in a sealed box of memories, deep in a cupboard,

that 20 years later I still can't open.

And I remember that I never once heard her play.

That we had no piano.

That lessons came for me, too far into the shame years, to instill any skill.

This is a poem about a piano. A piano that arrived today as I fly to Canada.

In and Through

We spliral together

A sacrament

An offering

One with The Beloved

In pure peace and truth

On our knees

Or lost completely

Worshipping 

Worshipping

Worshipping

The broken temple

Scattered into every heart

Seeded into liberation

Restored and Whole.

building blocks 24 July 22

A day of quiet connection

feet on the floor

and the gentle breathing of waves on shore 

poetry and presence

And still something out of balance,

satisfaction far off and murky,

satiation is a memory 

a mystery in this moment 

Nothing out of place, exactly.

just an out of sync sense 

unsettled though at home

Giving up is not the same as surrender.

They are not nearly the same. And one is suffering. The other is pure bliss. 

10 June haiku

You may believe Moon's

love less constant than Sun but,

dark or light, she spins.

church

We worship differently;

The mother song in silence and joy,

The key to power in movement and forgetting.

We are siblings held between sky and earth. First born or last. And however we worship: seeking Life or Death: we will know both. 

Apart from worship, it is our freedom also made materially in difference. And what we are willing to sacrifice to have it. 

Neither of us is fully sovereign. No matter how we live our comings and goings. Our births are gifts and our deaths are a reckoning. Both beyond us and our timid adventures.

need

Only harmony,

Moon, sound, light, breath, perfect touch

is enough right now.

loving you

How I love you from afar:

In moonlight and at dawn

With candle magic and prayer

Parcels of silence wrapping fragile gifts

And rooting my everything into the earth

Where treasure is buried and seeds are birthed.

In devotion,

Touching the sky

And unweaving memory where I can.