I hear the moth tangled in the lamp
And the clock’s tick tick
Metronome,
And I am left with stray thoughts
Looking for a home,
Trying to delineate
Where things stand,
And how we do
This dance,
Never giving it a name,
And more interestingly,
How we already simultaneously know
The steps.
Tag: Poetry
Beware the Love Vandal
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.
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
Worth
I want to know of my ancestors.
Yet the epic of colonialism,
Has for generations,
On multiple lines, kept faces, names, and ties
From kith and kin;
Kept us inextricably separated by imagined borders;
Separated with skins and flags of
fabricated colors;
Holding weapons and wealth
Unequal, unequitable,
As motive
For a status quo of harm,
Because just maybe one day
One of “us” will be on the “winning” team,
With change in pocket
And blood on hands;
Yet when in the moment of judgment
Will you be able to
Confess honestly
If any of it was worth it,
As we finally face our
Ancestors.
She of Letters 