I do not fall easily,
But I fall hard,
I commit myself
To a hand,
Based on
possibility
And knowing
When
There is an inner goodness
Pulsing through with radiant beauty
That my own senses have perceived,
Thus, I am not who I was
Before,
–Back then eager, heart merely pure
with naiveté,
Now matured
My heart recognizes,
And knows to banish the love con,
For my Iove is still true,
Loyal,
And my loving worthy of one
who can truly love
Me;
May my good heart not be fooled
Again,
By a love vandal.
Tag: poem
Sacred Breath
*reflection on recent local windstorms and the aftermath
Sometimes, the wind blows
With a force
That makes even the seasoned Oak quiver,
And the malleable Willow seize,
At times, it makes us remember,
Despite technologies, tools,
Advancements,
Configured and utilized
By living beings,
We are still that
–Living, mortal beings,
Miniature vessels
Of this infinite infinity,
And to the wind
the tree bows
And as do we.
With heads lowered,
Hidden from us all,
On an even smaller scale
A seed sprouts;
All present feel, know,
And are humbled by
The life shaping power
Of sacred breath
Toward a Happy Ending
I anticipated a winding road
For that is how my story often goes,
But something tells me
The next chapters
Are short and sweet,
But not lacking in their depth or content;
On a few pages more
There will be new revelations to find,
Hopes becoming truths,
And not just speculation
Nor just wishful thinking,
But manifestations of positive energy
Of karmic flow spiraling out
And being received,
By open hands
And open hearts,
To then be paid forward,
In this my tale,
Moving swiftly,
With the turning of pages
Toward a happy ending.
Aligned
Somewhere along the way
I had forgotten that
Joy
Was for me too;
I had forgotten the very feel,
The flavor
Of “Happy”,
Until something
Shifted;
Planets aligned,
And it was suddenly clear that
Satisfaction in
The beauty and majesty
of simple
And complex Joy
Is also
Mine
Crocus
I try to remember
Who I was
Before I started this journey,
A journey of journeys,
where I have left what I know
And found gems along the road
With each step;
Fallen,
And scraped more than my knees,
Scratched beneath my
Surface,
And looked to see who I am underneath;
I wonder and look back to find
Who I once was,
I know she would not recognize me now,
And at times I worry, of sharing all on this path with others
But deep down, I know,
Damn!
How proud She–me of the past—
would be
if she
knew
All I’ve traversed,
The hell and high water I have overcome,
And still come out able
To find beauty
In the crocus of Spring
In its vibrant yet gentle purple petals;
That crocus
That is me,
Having pushed up through toughened winter dirt,
Broken free,
To not just be beautiful,
But to welcome others
Out,
And to be amazed by their own epic journeys.
Treadmill
Try, I do;
Try, I did;
And the rug keeps slipping
Under me,
Know I am no stranger
To the impossible,
And so moving,
Running,
Racing
I try again,
Upon this endless carpet;
This treadmill of
My life.
She of Letters 