Silence

I can’t help it,
nor do I want to,
that half my breath is tied
to your heart

My poet’s soul,
the one that drew you to me,
has its downsides,
and I see the walls go up
between us as we entrench,
each on our side,

no one on the side of
us.

When I am scared
I go to my heart,
when you are scared
you go to your logic and facts

we think we are right.
together, perhaps yes,
in the wars we create
no one can win.

I hear the door, old and heavy,

made of huge trees and hard iron,

swinging toward closed, 

freezing me in place.

But darling,
hear this.

I can take your anger
(though I know you think I can’t)
I can take long and heated battles
(though I’d rather learn other ways)

But the silence.

Take away my chocolate,
my iced lattes, even my ocean,
take away the sun and the stars,
but do not take away your heart.

Understand.

Understand that so long as you are silent,
every minute you withdraw,
I feel punished for my questions and my desires.
Every minute the door is locked
I will not stand and pound my fists on it

I will sit quietly just outside
on the old stone steps that
lead to your heart
and sometimes I will laugh
when I think of you, clever and handsome,
and how erotically perfect we are,
and sometimes I will lose hope for a moment,
whisper to myself
and cry
and look up to the heavens
asking “what did I do?”

But I will wait
because you will always be worth waiting for,
even if I must endure
the silence.

All That’s Left Is Love

There will be no more
tickling little piggies
sniffing little heads
or kissing little cheeks

There will be no more
skipping in the sunshine
drawing on the sidewalk
tying shoes on little feet

There will only be a memory
hearts torn open wide
whispers scattered on the wind
and pain for them to hide

I don’t believe this makes sense
but I really wish I could
I can’t believe in any God
that I never understood

There will be no more tucking in
no more rousing sleepyheads
no more checking in the night
are they breathing in their beds

wish I could just undo it all
wish there were a reason from above
but all that’s left, though it seems small -
is love, love, love.

Constellation

Constellation 

What are the chances? 

Of all the stars in the sky 

over all the oceans vast and blue 

of all the chatter 

through etheral fiber optic threads 

and backlit story-telling tablets 

of all the choices to connect

look into blue and green 

look into minds and hearts 

what are the chances 

to click into place 

like legos and locks 

and there begins

a new and whispered constellation, 

sparks in obsidian,

us.

My Heart Beats with Yours

My heart beats with yours
it has since that first beat
my dreams live with yours
the bitter and the sweet

When you feel scared or nervous
I do too
because that’s what moms and kids
just do

When you are feeling happy
I can’t help but smile
your laughter lights the sky right up
of that there’s no denial

And when you’re sleepy, murmuring softly
“mama, I love you”
my hearts beats with yours
and always will

My heart beats with yours
and always will

She Waits for You

She's standing in the midnight mist
wandering about the place
thinking of you all the time
watching for any flash of lights
to say that you're awake

Pining night and day,
you're always on her mind
she writes your name in cursive
over and over
her sweetest desire is to make you
hers.

She stood a few steps away from you
just last week in that bookstore
in the sparkling, oceany, New England town
and whispered your name
but, mistaking her for someone else
you put the book back down
and walked away

She broke a little that day
but she's pretty used to it by now
and so much tougher than her delicate beating would indicate
you can try to ignore her
but she'll never go away

she's sneaky like that
she'll just come back again
when
you're more tired of not living your dreams
and more ready to listen
to
your
heart.

Your Heart Prays for Rain (song)

Some hearts pray for sunshine
and some hearts pray for wind
some hearts wish for calm clear days
to let more light fall in

Some hearts pray for green leaves
dancing in the sun
but yours needs water, baby
its dance has just begun

I hate to break it to you,
but your heart prays for rain

if hearts can ever have a chance
to glisten, glow and gleam
to dance alone under the stars
and not be what they seem

if they will ever know the day
they have to know the night
they have to get it wrong a lot
if they'll ever get it right

after every broken heart
kings horses and his men
come riding into town
some grey day
and set it right again

your heart's on a journey brilliant
courage is its name
your heart knows just what it needs
and your heart prays for rain

I’m Not Your Pilgrimage (song)

I’m not your pilgrimage
Not what’s over the next ridge
I’m not a golden bridge
to your new life

And though you must know
that I don’t really want to go
I’m not your pilgrimage
this much, I know

It’s a pretty long flight
black, and a million stars in sight
not one of them
whispers your name

But if I listen close
I hear what matters most
I’m not your pilgrimage
this much, I know

Sometimes I want to go back there
that reckless, careless time we once shared
like climbing through clouds in a wicked storm
bursting through to find a clear new morn

I’m not your Berlin Wall
though you had to make it fall
to find your
solitary brand new day

And I wasn’t your last stand
but given the choice I can
appreciate
that it must have felt that way

I’m not your pilgrimage
Not what’s over the next ridge
I’m not a golden bridge
to your new life

And though you must know
that I didn’t really want to go
I’m not your pilgrimage
this much, I know

this much, I know.

He Burned Incense in His Car (a song)

He burned incense in his car
talked of travel near and far
threw his arm around my shoulder
in a carefree sort of way

He spoke French and Portuguese
and swept in on the breeze
of my freedom, newly minted
shining in the Boston sun

But things aren’t always as they seem
this guy was the star of his own dreams

Would you like to know what happened next?
So would I
So would I
I think it went something like this:
I
learned
to
love
me.

He wrote poetry and prose
he shook me to my toes
he taught meditation
I had no hesitation

He practiced yoga too
tell me what in the hell would you do
with a man that fabulous
oh, he was mysterious

Invited me to couples yoga
I never wanted it to be over

But things aren’t always as they seem
this guy was the star of his own dreams

Would you like to know what happened next?
So would I
So would I
I think it went something like this
I
learned
to
love
me.

Someone to Believe (song)

Day after day
night after night
keep hoping things will turn out all right
Dream after dream
sigh after sigh
I turn my face up to the evening sky

I just want someone
to believe
that I can

it would feel so nice
a taste of paradise
if I just had someone to believe

I was a 7 year old
shoving permission slips under my mom's nose
“just sign here” -- I handed her the pen (‘cause I was going)
I was a high school girl
claiming I’d see the world
(Stockholm really is a magical place)

I just want someone
to believe
that I can

it would feel so nice
some sugar to my spice
if I just had someone to believe

I know they see things through their limitations,
but can’t they just encourage my ruminations?

I just want someone
to believe
that I can

it would feel so nice
a taste of paradise
if I just had someone to believe

I just want someone to believe

I Remember (a song)

I remember
the feeling
all butterflies and smiling
landing
almost into the ocean

I remember
the feeling
all warmth and skin and wanting
landing
into your arms again

There was so much longing
wanting, missing
for all those whispered years
There were so many
airplanes and airports
and
so many salty tears

I remember
the dreaming
all perfect lives and picket fences
landing
almost into my dreams

I remember
the dreaming
all laughter and a family
landing
almost into the truth

There was so much longing
wanting, missing
for all those whispered years
There were so many
airplanes and airports
and
so many salty tears

Now that that’s the past
and fantasies don’t last
what’s come to be
is yet more sweet and true -
it’s the precious, dreamed-for life
of loving you.

My Heart Won’t Let Go. (a song)

There are days that I
think of us
when we were 20
and I know that those days are long
long gone

There are nights that I
think of us
driving
across the Alps in the moonlight
we were so young

Yes I know
very well
those days are not
today

And I know
that you’ve mostly been
far away

And you’re happy now
with someone else
and
I
am
too.

But my heart won’t let go
of you.


There are days that I
reach for the phone
to call you
but I know it wouldn’t
be wise

There are nights that I
think of you
sleeping
next to her
and I truly hope

that you’re happy
and life is sweet
that you hold her hand
when you walk down the street
that all your dreams have finally come true
and don’t forget that I’ll always

love.

you.

Yes I know
very well
those days are not
today

And I know
that you’ve mostly been
far away

And you’re happy now
with someone else
and
I
am
too.

But my heart won’t let go
of you.

Beauty (a song)

the curve of her hips
and her belly too
the sway of the dance
when she’s holding you

the curve of her lips
the questions they ask
it’s how she makes sense
of all of her past

she’s growing wise
before your eyes
and it’s no surprise
when you realize
her magic she’ll hold
when things seem so cold
in the shimmering bold
all her stories are told

the curve of her hand
her laughter too
that look in her eyes
it just might get you through

the curve of her back
as you pull her close
it’s all you need to feel
it’s what she needs the most

hope (poem)

once upon a full moon,
I released any hope for our future.
took it all to the shore and
lit a huge bonfire
of the dreams I painted
on your skin.

now that the ocean
has washed away the images,
i see you more clearly
than before.

And you know what?
I still want you
and I still want us.

It might as well be a mile (poem)

we sit up in bed
the bed that should be cradling the love we share
enveloping our wanting, tender bodies
while we spark and flame in the dark

these machines
the same ones that
brought us together
and became our glue
for those wanting, breathless years

they have turned on us
now they allow us to avoid each other
steel and circuits turned to chasm,
how in the hell did this happen?

So arrogant, I would never
have believed that we
would end up like them
not even for one day or one night

And here we sit
in this bed
staring into these screens

And all I want
is for you to put that machine over there
hold me close
whisper that you don’t ever want to be like them
like all the others

take the safest risk of all
how is it you can’t see me,
i am right here.

And though we are only about 14 inches apart
it might as well be a mile, tonight.

Snugged (a poem)

Snugged up to you,
comfort.
Snugged up to me,
curves.

Snugged in your arms,
smiling.
Snugged next to me.
flirty words.

Party

My dear friends PJ and Lyra. It was Lyra’s 60th birthday party and it was FABULOUS! We circle-danced, we sang, we chanted, we hugged. I was honored to be invited and I hope Lyra does it again when she’s 65 or 70. :)

I want to be Lyra when I grow up. (Lyra is in the amazing blue gown with the awesomely silver hair.)

xoxo,
k

desire (poem)

your lips to mine

tongue asking to dance

hands in my hair, possessing

all you can possess

the strength of your body

a rarely shared and magical

secret

few have been honored to know

your wanting

close to the surface,

deep as the ocean floor

secrets, only I know

only you know

let me lay the weight of this

pleasure on you like a thick blanket

in winter,

the familiar and comforting curves

of my body

welcoming and warming you

our fire

burns brightly blue

you, the matches and kindling

I, the oxygen and spark,

consummation,

and the wild, licking flames

of desire

Summer Has Arrived (song)

Wistfully watch the moon rise

it’s almost getting full

the gravity of your heart on mine -

I can almost feel the pull

night is nearly fallen

in the indigo prairie sky --

with you, I wish I was, tonight

the fireflies, whispering

summer has arrived

I’d give a lot of summer dreams

just to sing you a lullaby

summer has arrived

the juice drips down my chin

another day to be amazed

at this world we live in

fireflies, whispering

how do they know I love you so?

I wrote this summer song tonight

because I wanted - just wanted -

you to know.

The Library (poem)

Walk the stacks

skim the shelves

search for tales

known so well

what you read

is up to you

will you choose

as lovers do?

thoughts will write

the tale of us

pick the words

heart, heat and lust

within the spines

the new, the old

ancient whispers

lives retold

within one’s power

to keep on reading

or sigh

decide that it was fleeting

I pause and draw a volume down

the cover set with jeweled crowns

a million stars

a moonlit night

my lover’s lips within my sight

I turn the page and laugh

pick up a pen and graph

trajectory of these two hearts

pages ripping, stops and starts

the rest will be of our own making

what blaze of glory, what fate creating

what task, what faith, to love and wait

the writing of our story, great.

Courage

The light keeps blinking blue,

I want red.

my patience sits

my heart has no door

"I am here for you"

"I am here for you"

"I am here for you."

whether it's stupid or wise

it's what I do:

I love

I just

love.

no, really

I am beautiful

I am smart

I am funny

and a little too sensitive

but that's how I love so well

And no, for the millionth time

my friends,

I do not need a man

I do not need a man

I want one.

And there is a big difference.

the risk of loving this big

is that no one will have the courage

to accept all they are given

to surrender

I will love fiercely

I will love with laughter

I will love with fire

I will love with

the waters of the monsoon

Who will be my King?

Who has the courage?

If I Were There (song)

If I were there.

If you were here.

I'd take your hands.

I'd call you "dear."

But in Italian,

because that's what we do...

I'd press my lips to yours

and say "I love you."

If I were there.

If you were here.

I'd shed a tear

but have no fear.

You'd hold me close

so safe I'd feel

We'd do what's true..

we'd share what's real.

I know. (a song)

I know

sometimes

I know

sometimes

The walls around the person that I long to be

I build them high, so high I can not see

I can't see you

and worse,

I can't see me

I know

I know sometimes

I say things that I don't even recognize

as coming from these lips

that pressed to yours

turn up and smile with joy.

Sometimes

I know

I fall into a place I don't recognize

far from the rosy-colored world that is mine

if only I could stop dragons from

blowing fire on my secret garden.

I know

sometimes

I know.

Don't Forget To Look

Once you see people, beneath the surface, once you really get them to talk, it's amazing what you hear from each and every soul walking the earth.

Amazing.

If you can really be Present with someone, really look them in the heart . . .the beauty is endless.

Sometimes when I'm walking through the airport, which I do almost every month, I look at all the travelers walking to their flights and I think about all their stories, their histories,

their desires to paint or write or raise chickens or sail the oceans of the world, you know?

I look for the Love in them

even and especially in those that don't seem to possess it. It is there. We have to look for it.

It is there.

It's breathtaking when you open your eyes to another being that way.

Most of us only do it when we fall in love

then we forget to Look at our loved one, or anyone, once the newness wears off.

Don't forget to Look.

Autumn at the Parker River Wildlife Sanctuary, Plum Island, Massachusetts

Autumn in West Newbury, Massachusetts

A Mirage (song)

Is it all a mirage
at the end of the day?
It was pretty convincing
when she danced that way.

she laughed as she said
"I'm not even a good Buddhist,
I never got that
letting go thing.
You see, that would mean

I'd have to trust,
somethingI don't do.

Is it all a mirage anyway?"

She laughed as she said,
"I never said 'do as I do'
you really should do as I say."

Is it all a mirage
at the end of the day?
It's the best we can do,
to find our heart's way.

He waltzed her around
on that sparkling marbled floor
and she said,
"I'm always looking for the door."

What happened next took her
by surprise . . .
he pulled her close,
tears welled in her eyes.

"I won't let you leave
unless that's what you want,
you'll just have to trust me,"
and then her breath caught.

is it all a mirage anyway
anyway
is it all a beautiful mirage?

she laughed as she said
"I'm not even a good Buddhist,
I never got that letting go thing."

Buon Compleanno, Amore

Autumn on Plum Island

Orange, saffron and mahagony leaves
tumble on the sand,
I stop and stoop to take one, red
and hold it in my hand.

I smile at autumn on the beach,
the beauty of the waves,
and my great luck to be with you
for all these wonderous days.

If it's autumn at the shore
it must be getting time,
to celebrate the birth of one,
so handsome, smart, sublime.

Happy Birthday my beloved,
I hope today is sweet,
one more year of love and joy
is really no small feat!

Ti amo caro!

We Weave Together ( a poem)

We weave together
You
then you
and you
and finally me.

Each of us
a thread
of a different texture;
silk,
cotton,
linen.

Diamond sparkles fill my lungs
when you laugh,
did you know?

Did you know that when I count my blessings
I count you thrice?

Did you know that 1 + 1 + 1 +
all of us equals
more peace and love than you can imagine?

Did you know?
When one of our hearts shatters into
the proverbial million pieces,
we all get on our hands and knees
with tiny mini-mag lites
and search and search
until we find ALL the pieces
and we hand them back to the broken one
until he or she is whole again?

We weave together
a warm blanket for when you are cold.
What do you need?
A shoulder?
an ear?
a heart?
a friend to ask how you are --
a friend who really wants the real answer?

This cloth is all of that.

Come.
Weave together,
this
complicated,
simple,
light,
dark,
black,
white,
gray,
gold,
silver,
aqua,
grass green,
indigo,
blood red,
saffron yellow,
lyra's kitchen orange
bermuda short plaid
tapestry.

We call it Odonata.
Yes, it's quite beautiful, isn't it?

Come and weave.

The Moment After (a song)

Is it all the things we do
can't we do them faster?
Is it all the things we lose,
and is that such a disaster?

What are the moments
that make your
heart beat faster
is it this or that we do
or is it
the moment after?

Is it sweet sounds intertwining
and whispered breathy sighs?
Is it songs sung in darkness
those precious lullabies?

What are the moments
that make your heart beat faster
is it words we speak or sing
or is it
the moments after?

That's when promises are kept
and
when tears of joy and sorrow wept,
when the truth has been revealed
and when the wound is healed.

Is it the circle in the pond
when the stone is tossed?
Is it the letting go that comes
when the bridge finally crossed?

To be sure live passion and fire
in the times our hearts beat faster
but there's a quiet sort of flame
that goes on burning
in the moment after.

butterfly's view (poem)

he moved toward her
with a question and an answer

his hand traced her heart
or was he knocking on its door?

the corners of her rose-colored lips
turned up as he caressed the porcelain surface
of this delicate creature

his face leaned to hers
their lips met
the fullness of his enveloping hers
claiming her completely

he left her face and
began his journey down the expanse
of the land that was her body,
his new home

she began to sing
her songs of doves and moonlight
of waves and water

returning to her mouth,
eyes open, he offered his
passion with his tongue
and she accepted both
with a desiring murmur

his body blanketed hers
his backside clenching and releasing
with every thrust into the precious creature
willingly trapped beneath his body

This was the view of the butterfly perched on the
heavy, dark beams of this
bedroom of fire and laughter
of tears and anger
of joy and always love,
this bedroom of desire
of freedom and whispers
of delight and truth.

Caro Mia

For all your cynicism,
you love with the heart of
the innocent.

For all your cranky moods,
you cheer and lift
like no one I've ever met.

For all your humility,
your intellect thrills and informs,
you are my teacher.

And for all your woundedness
(aren't we all),
you let me heal you and in doing so
I heal myself.

amazing,
adored,
revered,

you are.

Perchance To Dream (song)

Could you dream,
perchance to dream
of kisses faded by the past?
Could you dream of lovers lost,
forever parted from your grasp?
Could you dream,
sweet violet dreams,
that every day forever lasts?

Could you dream
of your small child,
laughing like the summer sun?
Could you wish for one more day,
when laughter was a cause to run?
Could you dream
perchance to dream
that his pure heart is never broken?

Could you dream
a sepia-colored dream,
when you were small
and love was yours?
Could you dream
a clear blue dream,
that it is still as you believed?
Could you live,
perchance to live
in this moment, on this day?
Can you see, can you breathe in,
that it's all yours anyway?

Could you dream,
perchance to dream,
that all is well,
and you are love?

Fly Away (a song)

I fail myself
almost every day
it's more tempting all the time
to just give up and fly away

It is what it is,
this heart that is mine
these thoughts that live in my home
how kind they could be
if they would leave me alone
leave me alone

I fail my love
almost every day
he thinks I am beautiful
he doesn't see the pain
and he rarely feels the rain

It is what it is
this heart that wanders now
through every European city
wishing for a life
that she doesn't lead but
once did

what happened to that girl?
How did I get here?
How can I get out?
I remember now, I can't. I won't.

In that smile, that laughter
it's worth it every day
I bet I fail him too
I try to be the sun
I try to be the moon for him
the steady beating of his mother's love
I can't beat from afar
so I am here.

I fail myself
almost every day
it's tempting
to give up
and fly away.

Whispered Bed

There you lay

above my head

there you lay 

in our whispering bed

sleep overtook you

after crimson felt

after violet said

now you lay dreaming

in our whispered bed

teach stone-strong trust

teach strong surrender

teach me to wrap myself

against long winters

teach wide heart gates

teach patient waits and wise retreats

teach me to walk without

you here in summer's heat

Now there you lay

above my head

in silent dreams 

in our whispered bed

I'll walk right up

tread after tread

lay by your side

in our whispered bed.

Night Sky (I Believe in Love)

I believe in the night sky
in the power of a lullaby
in being kind
in searching until I find
in the ocean and the wind
in the power of a friend
in a touch, a kiss, a hug
I believe in love

I believe in frightened chills
and in climbing tall green hills
I believe that the heart grows
yes it does
yes it does
I believe in a deep sigh
in almost always asking why
I believe in things I can not see
I can not see
never see
never see

I believe grace lives with age
in the powers of love and rage
in words and tears and pain
and it's all beautiful, all beautiful

But what do I know?
just that the heart can always grow
if we believe
if we believe
if we believe
in the night sky

In Blue I See My Life (a song)

In blue I see my life
funny how it looks in blue
indigo and robin's egg,
into blue sky I fly away

All the colors
that rain down on us
teach us hope and light
and whisper how to trust

In red I see my life,
funny how it looks in red
fire storm of setting suns
and hearts and passions.

In gold I see my life
funny how it looks in gold
shining like a pirate's treasure
even in ocean's stormy weather

Tucked into this lovely life
are all the colors, peace and strife
tumbling over rainbow clouds
and I have to say out loud

In green I see my life
funny how it looks in green
Mermaidy and leaf deep
green that hurts your eyes, first of spring

We'll never tire of the colors
of love
of passion
of whispered indigo nights

And down the road
I'll turn to you and say
In white I see my life
funny how it looks in white
and you'll laugh with me, too.

A Good Birth Day

The hand cannot grasp water
but two hands, cupped, catch it
The hands cannot make rain
but patience awaits it
and two hands, cupped, catch it.

Life is a flood
that overflows the borders
made by our hands
but still there is enough
to drink.

The hand does not grasp water
but the cup of the hands offers
as much water as the hands
can carry
to the lips.

A year is the span of rain and rivers
that two hands, open
receive within their borders
and carry
to the lips.

(This poem was written by my friend Mark Schultz, for my birthday in 2006. I just found it while looking through memorabilia this evening and cleaning out my bedroom closet. A treasure, Mark. Thank you.)

What I Know Best

What I know best
is the darling way you talk with your hands,

the feel of your firm, warm cheek against mine.

What I know best
is the fly-free joyful noise of your gorgeous laughter,

the feel of your arm around my hip as I fade into the land of dreams.

What I know best
is the almost-but-not-quite cocky confidence of your sincerely passionate words,

the feel of your impossibly soft hands on my beaming face and in my hair.

What I know best
is everything you are, the magical light in your earthen eyes,

the feel of your ever-wounded, never failing, bigger-than-Life, container-of-Love heart.

I know you.

Buon Compleanno, caro mia.

October 21, 2008

A blessing is a wondrous thing,
on this day I know,
your day of birth was one of those,
a star-filled night, just so.

A quiet little sapling he,
who barely said a thing,
he wasn't watered very much,
but to himself would sing.

Some trees grow so very strong,
to spite a lack of light,
and reach the tallest heights they can,
almost beyond our sight.

It takes a rare and gentle soul,
to turn into one who,
gives this sort of steadfast love,
though really taught not to.

So Happy Birthday, caro mia
there aren't enough words to start,
to describe the person you've become,
sharp mind, deep soul, true heart.

ti amo,
fiocco de neve

Another Day (a song for Davi)

Under lights I see my life
funny how it looks in blue
Under moons from long ago
my heart leans into you.

It's another day
another day
my arms are empty still
another day
another day
I'll sigh, and then you will

In the dark I see my life
funny how it looks in black
Under stars from long ago
it seems you've got my back

Its another day
Another day
I long to lay with you
another day
another day
bittersweet things, we go through.

In whispers I hear my life
funny how it sounds in grey
Softly make me all your own
hold my hand through -

Another day
another day
I long to laugh with you
it's another day
another day
I hope you will, some way.

Night Owl (a poem)

Under the gauze of moonlight, whose sleep is for the sane

heaviness of silken clouds gives way to autumn rain
summer's flowers fade again, but speak with no disdain
beauty is, and is again, with strength to thus remain.

Softly, they hold your name, dear one, as butterflies alight
barely a print, left in sand, the leaver of it, unknown
like stars expressed from mountain tops, twinkling white-hot bright
shine into eternity, to home, to home, to home.

Your Muse

Igniting ancient fires,

within,

without,

seen,

invisible.

My breath,

gives flames

their fuel.

My body -

mine,

yours.

I am.

Your muse.

When You Were a Little Boy

I just left my 9 year old son's room, where we snuggled together in the dark before sleep, as we've done since his birth.

I hope I never forget this moment:

Me: If you want to be an oceanographer, you'll probably want to go to college near the ocean.
Son: But I would miss you mama.
Me: Well, I'll just move there. I want to live at the ocean again anyway.
Son: We can never leave this house, mama.
Me: You can't be an oceangrapher in Iowa, there is no ocean here.
Son: I can study at the lake.
Me: But then you'd be a lakeographer.

silence . . .my son thinks about this.

The "night-night" music plays, and I feel his little body relax into sleepiness. I realize, as I sometimes do, that these nights are very numbered. In a year or two, more or less, he won't want me to cuddle with him at night, as it should be.

Me: When you are a big man, I will always remember the nights we listened to night-night music in the dark, when you were a little boy.

My son feels me crying, he can tell there are tears in my eyes, and he turns to look at me. We tickle each other and laugh.

Learning

That loved-up old
blue bear,
waits on your bed,
the keeper of your heart,
for now.

And I am here
listening to silence,
touching the space where you
breathe into the night.
I am learning
to miss you.

Can you hear the rain? (a song)

Can you hear the rain?
It's falling all around again . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's falling all around again.

Time goes so slowly by,
all I want is to sing you a lullaby,
and no matter what I try,
I'm left far away, I sigh.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again . . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's calling you again.

This sweet and bitter distance,
I won't let it get us.
This love meets no resistance,
and it flows where it will, where it will.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again,
flooding where it's empty
I think of us, and float again.

Some Things Just Are (a song for Davi)

See that moon up in our sky?
Does it ever ask why,
it shines on everything?
See that plane flying high?
Does it ever ask why,
it brings me back to you again?

We could ask a thousand questions
about this love and its directions,
but I don't need any reasons to know:
I'll be with you.

Some things just are
like the blazing sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your precious friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

See that smiling rose in bloom?
Hear the stillness of this silent room?
Feel the wind say a thousand things?
Hear the music rock us to our little dreams?

Some things just are
like the sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your whispering friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

It's Another Beautiful Day (a song for my cousin Casey)

My amazing cousin Casey Michael Niel Kent passed away recently. I didn't know him well as an adult, as his family moved away to Montana when we were all young, but he inspires me all the same. You can read and listen to more about Casey here:


I got home from work,
brought in the mail,
let the dog out,
like I always do . . .

then it hit me
like a tidal wave,
the world is less kind now,
it lost you.

But is it really so?
Is the day less magical
because we've let you go?

It's another beautiful day
isn't that what you would say?
take a flying leap into the sky,
it's another beautiful day.
Isn't that what you'd want me to say?
The sun is still here, somehow
it's another beautiful day.

I rushed to the northbound train
passed her with
her seeing eye dog last week
and I thought of you,

walked back some steps
just to ask if she needed help,
what would Casey do?
what would you do?

It's another beautiful day
you wouldn't have it any other way,
it doesn't take much, just to be kind,
it's another beautiful day.
Close your weary eyes,
and open your mind,
it's another beautiful day.

Perfect Sunday Morn (a song)

Breathe yourself into me
take my hand in yours,
take your sweet time
and don't let go, love,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This bed is the best place
in the world right now,
(yes, it really is)
in the space between
a whisper and a kiss,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This might be my favorite day
that ever came to be,
I get the chance to hold
and pray and dance you
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Shelter me with all you are
cradle me at last,
touch me up to heaven,
place your heart in mine
I'll bury mine in yours,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Let's always feel like this
maybe just one more perfect kiss,
on this shining Sunday morn.

Musti the Teddy Bear

When my son was about 1 year old, maybe less, a small bright blue bear came hurtling through the atmosphere on his way to my son's crib. He was on a mission to be Max's companion and best friend, through thick and thin. He was sent from the Blue Planet to befriend the most special, funniest, smartest, most beautiful child he could find. He found Max. His blue rocket landed in the alley near my house. I took him inside and put him in my son's crib.

Max and Musti have been steadfast companions through thick and thin, for about 10 years now. There is something innocently sweet and insanely beautiful about the many photos of Max holding Musti. Some of them, I’ve surreptitiously taken while Max slept. I probably won’t show them to Max’s prom date, I couldn’t violate the sanctity of the Max/Musti relationship that way.

Indigo (a poem)

Sleepy skin on sleepy skin,
cheek to chest, I breathe you in,
to the land of Nod we're halfway up,
when desire drips, tips the cup.

Wanting spills all over us,
a darkened, hushed, and crimson lust,
mix of chemistry and trust,
we mustn't, too tired, but then,

we must.

Reaching deep inside you find,
the lock is turned, I unwind,
exotic olive on alabaster,
find my heart, spinning faster.

Glowing moon above,
illuminates this scene of love,
delicious feelings bodies know,
whispering sighs in indigo.

Dang, these are good!

I do believe these might be the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever eaten, and that's saying something. The recipe came from www.101cookbooks.com, where I've discovered all sorts of formulas for yummy food lately.

Do pop over there and take a look . . .Heidi's recipes are generally healthy whole foods, prepared in simple, delicious ways (with enough in the "chocolate" category to satisfy even me.) The Carmelized Tofu and Brussel Sprouts is entirely delish as well! Try it!

When I Am Old and Wise (a song)

When I am old and wise,
when the years melt away disguise,
when light illuminates freckled alabaster skin,
will I be there, will I have learned to let the sun in?

When this heart has walked a million miles,
and I count the fears and the tearful smiles,
when it all starts to fade, slowly rosy blue,
will I share a gentle, fiery bed with you?

When the ocean comes to carry me away,
there is no sorrow left and only days of play,
whispers echo on the moonlit waves at night,
shooting stars carry delicate messages of light.

When this old heart has walked a million miles,
and learned to breathe deeply and smile ancient smiles,
every day we'll walk holding hands and kissing
young lovers think "what do they have that we are missing?"

When I am old and very, very wise,
when sunset illuminates these green eyes,
I'll shine everything I've learned to be,
a sparkling prism of white love, that will be me.

Some Things Never Change (a song)

I don't pretend to understand how my marriage unraveled over the years, but it did. I was thinking about that today and feeling another wave of grief. Grieving is such a strange process, hitting you at the most random times and when you least expect it.

Some Things Never Change

Some things never change
and some things do,
that's what I was whispering
the day I left you.

My heart still breaks sometimes
and I love you still,
Some things never change
and some things will.

When we first fell into this
and I was your girl,
gifts you gave to me so well,
the music in your world.

As time ran hurriedly by
we sang the saddest lullaby.
Some things never change
and some things do.

Bridge:
Over all that time,
no reason and no rhyme,
what was once so sublime
turned bittersweet.
The tears began to fall,
the flood broke every wall,
some things never change
and some things do.

Dust has settled down,
I see so clearly now
where I went so wrong
where I'm to blame.
Lessons to have learned,
into whispered memory burned,
some things never change
and some things do.

I Watch You Breathe (a song)

I rarely find the words to talk about my son. All of them seem so inadequate. This song sang itself to me on a bus from Logan Airport the other day and I was grateful for it.

I Watch You Breathe

I held you when you could not walk
I held you when you could not see
I watched you learn to crawl
and hoped you'd be what you could be

Never felt joy so shimmering gold
as when you smiled at me
in the night when I couldn't sleep
I would watch you breathe

Someone knew what they were doing
when I was handed you
you're the colors of the rainbow
the world in those eyes bright blue

And I know I'll never get this right
I can only try
my gold statue might never come,
but I sang the world's best lullaby

Can I teach you all the things
you need to live in peace?
Let your heart fly south for winter's warmth
like a thousand dark gray geese

I never feel a joy so shining gold
as when you laugh with me
and when I can not sleep at night
I still watch you breathe

Yes, when I want the world to stop
I still watch you breathe.

What If (a song)

What if dreams came true
if you just wanted them to,
and what if stars could fly
into you when you die?

What if everything
were black and white
and brilliant colors faded
from your heart's sight?

I want to know
someone tell me
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
I want to know
I really do
if it doesn't matter
then what to do?

What if the ceaseless motion
just leads to more of that?
What if you want so much to,
but never get to bat?

What if all the rain
in this world,
won't grow your love,
and passion just spins you into a whirl?

I want to know
someone tell me
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
I want to know
tell me true
if it doesn't matter
then what to do?

Stop, for a while
sit, for a while
breathe, for a while
and help me see.

What if all the tiaras in the world
can only beauty take?
What if it really is
about the love we make?

What if time is wasting
and here we are apart?
It can take days and years to
create that sort of art . . .

I want to know
someone tell me,
what if the secrets
aren't meant to be?
What if I come running back to me,
What if I don't like what I see,
What will I say to her if she,
keeps on asking "what if?"

Brenda Takes Her Leave

I didn't know Brenda that well. Something of an acquaintance, but one of whom I was fond. Brenda was very funny, and anyone who can bring laughter to my days is someone I am blessed to know.

I met Brenda two summers ago. My first camping trip since I was a child, I joined an AMC hike, and she was a frequent hiker. She loved the White Mountains of New Hampshire. A few years before I met her, she began hiking with a wonderful group of mindful nature admirers.

I was Brenda's foot massage partner. On that first hiking trip, we gathered around the camp-fire after a very, very long and grueling day of hiking, and partnered up to enjoy foot rubs. When I heard the sorrowful news yesterday, I thought of that night around the campfire, but just now recalled that she massaged my tired feet also. I also remembered that on that trip, she suggested we all hold hands and sing a song of thanks for friends around the dinner table. We did, and it was a moment of gratitude in my life I won't soon forget.

I admired Brenda's occupation. She was a hospice nurse. I can scarcely imagine a more difficult profession. On subsequent hikes, she sometimes told me, half-sadly and angrily, and half humorously, about her patients and their families.

I never imagined Brenda was sad or was having any severe difficulties emotionally. She was single and had no children, but surrounded herself with many different joy-filled communities of people, from the Unitarian Church to various groups at Rowe Conference Center, to an ecovillage initiative, to the AMC hiking group.

I wish I had known her better. Then maybe I would have seen her sorrow. Maybe I could have convinced her to seek help for her deep and intense pain.

I can only say now: Thank you, dear Brenda. Thank you for the moments of hilarity and light you brought to my life. I wish I had the chance to tell you now, and to hike with you again.

Brenda drove herself to the White Mountains earlier this week, and walked into the woods to end her life in a place which brought her peace. I truly hope it has. I shall miss you Brenda.

For Baci

"Baci" means "kiss" in Italian. Baci was my cat-friend for 12 years. He loved to kiss anyone and everyone, like some kind Italian uncle. Today I drove to the vet with him in my lap, sobbing, so he could leave this earth in peace instead of in pain.

I found Baci in my backyard one snowy winter night about 12 years ago. It was sheer luck that I walked outside right at that moment and saw him. He was a large tabby, a very strong Tom-cat. He seemed hungry and it was cold. In case he belonged to someone, I didn't take him inside that night, but left him on blankets in a large box on the front porch, so he could leave if he wanted to. He never wanted to.

Baci was a champion purr-er. That cat had the loudest purr I've ever heard. And he loved to purr right into your ear, in the middle of the night. He tried to lay on your head (likely so as to capture the heat) while you tried to sleep while launching him to the end of the bed over and over again.

Baci was at my side through many events in my life. He was there when I brought my son home from the hospital and when I woke in the middle of night with him for exhausting years. Baci always knew when I was upset, and he would walk over and offer the comfort of his purring and softness. He was there when I cried and cried over a lost pregnancy and then a few years later when it all happened again. He climbed onto my lap as I wailed like a lost child at the news of my beloved grandmother's death. Baci was there when my son learned to walk and talk. He was there when I passed the bar exam and cried with joy and relief. He watched and listened as my marriage crumbled over time. At the very end of his life, he taught me to be courageous in the face of death.

Several weeks ago, I noticed that Baci was spending more and more time in stillness and seemed to be getting thinner. At first I chalked it up to old age, but after he spent over 6 hours one day in one spot on my bed, I realized there was something truly wrong with him. The vet went through a lot of blood tests only to conclude that while he was dehydrated and had lost weight, all tests were normal. It left us with two options as to what was wrong, and it ended up being the worse of the two. There was a large tumor right next to Baci's big, strong, beautiful heart. I saw it right there on the x-ray, through tears, as the vet's eyes grew wet too, and he softly and compassionately said, "I'm so sorry."

Baci had been at the hospital for 2 nights and days at this point, so I asked if I could take him home for one night, and bring him back the next day. They removed the i.v. and feeding tube, and I took my Baci home to be loved like crazy for the next 24 hours. He slept on my head that night, purring loudly, and I didn't make him get off me. In fact, I moved as little as possible so Baci could stay exactly as he wished all night long.

I took pictures of my friend, so I wouldn't ever forget what he looked like on his last day on earth. I'm surprised I stopped crying long enough to take photos, but I did. One of them is at the top of this journal entry. He rested on my chest like that for a very long time as I cried and tried to memorize the weight of his body on me, the softness of his fur, and the sound of his "purrrrr, purrrrr."

I gave him every delicacy I could find, from heavy cream to cat treats to Petromalt, which he loved and always gobbled like candy to a chorus of "purrrrr, purrrrr."

I carried him around all morning, and talked to him. I took him outside, held him in the autumn sunshine and kissed his nose. I laid on the front porch swing and held him on my chest while he purred and then slept.

I held his adorable head in my hands, looked into his pale jade green eyes, and told him "thank you." "Thank you Baci (sob), for being my friend for all this time (sob), for sitting with me when I lost two pregnancies, and when I lost my grandma, and when things were sad and when things were happy. I love you Baci, thank you."

I didn't want to take him to the vet today. My body even started to fight me and I began to shake after I loaded him into the car.

When the very kind vet injected him with the anesthesia, it was as I'd heard and been told: He seemed to just very peacefully and quickly go to sleep and relax in my arms. His beautiful head was supported on my arm, his strong Tom-cat body on my lap. I was petting him when he died, and my voice was the last thing he heard, "I love you Baci." How I choked that out I have no idea. I guess I could do it because I wanted him to hear it.

He died snuggled in my arms, in no pain. Though I hate today, I can see the beauty of it, too. He was very ill and would have only gotten worse. I hope I gave him a gift in easing his passing. He gave me more than I would ever have been able to repay.

Thank you Baci. I love you.

Will You Take This Heart? (a song)

Will you take this heart, as day spins into day?
Will you take this heart, though frightened words we say?
Over lonesome miles, over shining years
through the glowing smiles, through the rain of tears,
Will you take this heart?

New day whispers now, roads lead to us somehow,
fresh sun streaming in, wakes desire again,
no matter what we said, as we laid down in bed,
your body shelters mine, nothing else could feel as fine,
Will you take this heart of mine?

Always hold me close, hold the light that matters most,
all my armour now is gone, carried for too long
I see into your brown, and you can fall into my green,
sending laughter and a kiss, can we always feel like this?
Will you take this heart?

A Week with Thich Nhat Hanh

I am at a loss for words to describe this week of mindfulness in the presence of Thay. Perhaps that is a good thing. Perhaps it means I learned this week to find the place where awareness means more than all the words I could write.

I am so thankful for this week of kindnesses large and small. I am thankful for a week of steeping in pure white love. I am thankful for each smile and each moment of silence. I shall carry this week with me always. Thank you, teacher.

Missing (a poem for Davide)

When you are there and I am here,
I long to hold you close, my dear,
when the work day makes us miss,
delicious lips I long to kiss.

Some day we shall recall the way,
work and child kept us away,
walking sweetly hand in hand,
upon some beach of golden sand.

Reminiscing -- all the years,
all the salty mermaid tears,
washed us clean and made us whole,
bound our hearts and blessed our soul.

Missing is one thing I,
can tolerate, until the sky
leads me to you, back again,
wrapped in arms of dearest friend.

I Don't Know Why (a song)

A memory hits the heart and turns it upside down
everything inside spills out, turning me around
precious jewels I thought I long ago, cast into the sea
like the tide, ceaselessly, circle back to me
and

I don't know why
I don't know why
it isn't like you look at me the way you used to
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Horses fly down old dirt roads, pure, white, and free,
the way you rode into my soul, saw inside of me,
that place, only you knew, only we knew,
but you don't feel any of the dust of we two,
and

I don't know why
don't know why
it isn't like I still long to be with you, so
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Maybe someday I can let you go
and never think of us
and how we used to know
that the heart knew, the heart knew . . .

But,
I don't know why
don't know why
it isn't like you look at me the way you used to
I don't know why
I don't know why
the heart holds on to love, a whole life through.
I don't know why
I don't know why.

Fall Into the Brown (a song)

Fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I fall into the brown.

Mahogany and chestnut, who knew there could be,
this many shades of earth, I never looked to see.
I fall in every time, you look at me that way,
and all I need is strength to find another way to

fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I fall into the brown.

Your moon hides in the darkness and it winks at me,
obsidian with a dash of light, to shine into my sea
I fall in every time, no hope can there be,
but baby if this is hopeless, show me the way to

fall into the brown, fall into your soul,
into hot chocolate pools, and swim to what I know,
fall into the deep, spinning down and down,
I'm never coming back, and I don't want to,
I just want to fall into the brown.

Learning to Love with Open Hands

The thing about Buddhism that always trips me up is the detachment---detaching--non-attachment . . .whatever! When something is good and delicious in this life, the natural and all-too-human instinct is to grab it with both hands and hang on for dear life.

And this, friends, is the root of all our suffering.

Tonight, for the first time in our nascent relationship, my lover went to bed early, halfway across the country, and shut off his computer and cell phone before retiring. He also sent me an email, saying he was fading fast and was going to go to bed. And also, that he loved me and was thinking of me, and some other sweet and savory words.

Were his words, which should have been like manna for my heart, enough to satiate my hunger, my grasping, for him?

nope.

Instead, I watched with amusement as I got upset, then started doubting his love and desire for me, and for this "us", and then the piece de resistance: the Ghost to Beat All Ghosts arrived in her full regalia . . .I started to doubt myself.

Eventually, though, I did what I almost always do when I get a ticket for the Self-Awareness Train . . .I started writing.

So here I am.

I found that I actually moved pleasingly quickly from a space of upset and doubt, to one of acceptance and trust. If this keeps up, I might actually start skipping the doubt altogether. Now, THAT would be a neat trick, and it's about time.

My precious lover has quickly taught me many things. Probably without meaning to, he helped me learn another lesson tonight. I learned to love with open hands. Grazie, amore mia.

Querido (a song)

I know that I can't take away his pain,
or stop the tears from falling like spring rain,
but there is nothing that I wouldn't do,
for my sweet friend, forever, querido.

We never know the how, the why, or when
from heaven comes another precious friend.
This one rests in a special corner of
my sanctuary lit with pure white love.

I didn't know I had it inside me,
the way I learned to love and then set free,
the one who saw into me, eyes sky-blue,
my sweet friend, forever, querido.

I'll never know just how I managed it,
patience comes to those who still and sit,
the wisest lessons--- I will never learn,
while crimson fires, they forever burn.

I know that I can't take away his pain,
or stop the tears from falling like spring rain,
but there is nothing that I wouldn't do,
for my sweet friend, forever, querido.

Fly To You (a song)

All at once I know what I should do,
spend sweet time learning to love you,
run to you when I can't see the light,
trusting everything will turn out right.

when direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Trusting comes so slow and isn't neat,
learning how to fly by my pants' seat,
dancing in a darkened room sometimes,
and learning how to speak each other's rhymes.

When direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Why create all sorts of useless questions?
Just take my hand and walk in this direction.

Ghosts haunt these parties of sweet beginning,
spin hearts around like plates that are spinning,
but my ghosts don't stand a single chance,
they really can't stand it when we dance.

When direction I should take is not too clear,
when all that I can taste is bitter fear,
nothing better now for me to do,
than turn and fly on golden wings to you.

Water Spirit (a poem by Lyra)

My dear friend Lyra wrote this. Recently rediscovered, it was shared with me and because I instantly loved it, onto the web journal it went . . .(and it has the words "ocean goddess" in it!)

Mountain cascades
winter ice
vapor disappearing
darkness into hovering cloud
bursting, washing, clearing

Smallest droplets
on the threads
of a spider's weavings
droplets far as eye can see
ocean heaving, swelling

Water spirit
source of life
ocean goddess flowing
streaming, cleansing
blood of earth
river-veined, betstowing

Where Have You Been? (a song)

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

I see you clearly now
standing at my future,
I can only see you,
smiling at what you reflect.

There are no doors between us
that you won't open wide
every time I knock you say,
come on in, baby, come inside.

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

Sometimes you just know
you really just know
it's the stuff of fairy tales,
I don't care if no one else believes.

We believe enough for now,
we'll make it somehow,
day spins into day~
and we won't throw this chance away.
hold another close,
see what matters most
I want to know,
where have you been?

And I see you clearly now
standing at my future,
I can only see you
smiling at what you reflect.

There are no doors between us
that you won't open wide
every time I knock you say,
come on in, baby, come inside.

What? What did I do?
To deserve this kind of love from you?
How? How good must I have been,
To call you now, my sweetest friend?
When? When was I a saint?
God covers us with golden paint,
And Where? Where have you been?
It's good with you, with me again.

The Light of a Thousand Lanterns (a poem)

Winter was long,
the icy nights, dark.
From the top of the tree
into which I'd climbed,
I saw--
the hint of light.

Squinting into the black,
I climbed down,
stumbling in your direction.

Nearer it seemed,
as the winds swirled in my heart
and the scent of love,
came to me on the early spring breeze.

At once, the rain and sun
broke
into my empty spaces
and filled me with white again.

Ancient songs called,
ancient rhythms repeated,
a whisper in obsidian --
the light of a thousand lanterns,
was lit for me that day.

Bind Your Wounds (A song)

Why are any two brought together,
to learn to sail seas in stormy weather,
to be a salve on badly wounded hearts,
to pray again for second starts.

Chorus:
I will be your light, will you be mine,
when I can't find the reason or the rhyme?
I'll be there to whisper who you are,
hold you up to touch the furthest star,
rebuild your ancient solitary ruins,
hold you tight enough to bind your wounds.

Light shines from within and then shines through
passes golden grace, my heart to you,
but no one ever knows the reasons why
when two sparks touch, light silver winter's sky.

Chorus:
I will be your light, will you be mine,
when I can't find the reason or the rhyme?
I'll be there to whisper who you are,
hold you up to touch the furthest star,
rebuild your ancient solitary ruins,
hold you tight enough to bind your wounds.

Mermaid's Heart (a poem)

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives longing--
shimmering and brilliant,
silver moonbeams on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives passion--
furious and sweet,
red tide on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives laughter--
bubbling and dancing,
green frothy foam on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives love--
strong and tender,
driving white rain and mist on black night water.

In the depths of
a mermaid's heart
lives peace--
vast and star-filled,
indigo sky over black night water.

Little Souls Fly (a song)

Who built the cell
which once contained the heart
of the two
who joined to create one life?
How many bricks it took
and how heart's trembling shook
the walls,
until they came tumbling down.

Was there some Great Plan,
is it all in larger hands?
how can this
serve the Light now?
Pain from far away,
and from long ago,
pain built this prison,
while we watched in disbelief.

Chorus:
But little souls fly free,
no matter how the weight
of the world
tries
to keep them tethered to earth.
And little souls dream,
no matter how things seem
so dark before the light begins to shine.
Little souls know,
because they are so close
to the place we all come from.
Little souls will, always reach their sky,
because--little souls fly.

We each might have
stopped this jail's construction,
but now destruction
falls on those we created.
The only way to move ahead,
and to leave this prison bed,
is to hold the light
so little souls don't lose sight,

that though created
within those walls,
it's not from us their freedom falls,
love gives them wings.
If we buy our freedom
with olive branch instead of sword,
sign the treaty, no more war,
peace gives them strength to soar.

Chorus:
Little souls fly
no matter how the weight
of the world
tries
to keep them tethered to earth.
And little souls dream
no matter how things seem
so dark before the light shines.
Little souls know
because they are so close
to the place we all come from.
Little souls will, always reach their sky
because----little souls fly.

Ocean's Calling (a poem)

It is so beautiful and amazing to be seen. This poem was written by a new friend. Thank you, David, for this gift.

Ocean's Calling

On a beach of the virtual sea
I sang of the longing in my heart,
for the friendship and love
of a companion to unravel and revel
in the mysteries of this life.
I sat in the shallows as the echoes
of my earnest supplication faded,
the waves lapping at my feet
in promissory consolation.

From the depths of the virtual sea
her liquid voice rose up to me
and I listened in stunned disbelief
to her captivating, lyrical song,
wavering dream-like, as if it came
from lost Atlantis herself.
And as the last notes faded,
her melody played on in my heart.

I gazed into the virtual sea
and saw the dichotomy of her being,
two goddesses in one glorious incarnation:
Athena, defending those in need
with strength and erudite wisdom,
and Aphrodite, born of the sea,
love and beauty personified.
I am set adrift, mesmerized,

as the turquoise tide carries me away.

I am borne into the virtual sea
to where Beauty shimmers.
Is she real, or a heavenly
reflection in this undulating mirror,
poised to flee from those
who dare disturb her visage?
Will my touch meet the one
Fate has destined for me,
or dispel the illusion
of this bitter-sweet dream?

Compelled to know,
I extend my hand ...

The Length and Breadth of Sorrow

The length and breadth of sorrow reflects the depth of love. The grieving would be less, if the love had been less, or perhaps if the attachment had been of a shallow sort. The trick in this life, the best trick, is to love deeply and to love big, without getting stuck. Good luck with that one. (If you know anything about astrology, I can shorthand this for you with one phrase: I'm a Cancer. So now you know the way I love.)

It is of some comfort to label the painful emotions by their names and attempt to let them pass like clouds on a windy day . . .oh, but when one's wind ceases and doldrums remain for weeks, or months, or longer, what then? When the clouds just sit there, taunting, raining and raining, teasing with spells of dry weather, then pouring rain on one's parade again and again, what then?

The answer, my friends, is not blowin' in the wind. (There isn't any wind, remember?) The answer is: I don't know. All I know is: it still hurts.

There was another poem read at the meditation retreat yesterday, and I laughed at it. I laughed at its TRUTH, shouting at me. Though it needn't have shouted, it was helpful to hear, and I didn't mind the volume. If it hadn't shouted, perhaps I wouldn't have listened. If only listening would ease the pain . . .

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest-house.

Every morning a new arrival,

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you

out for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

~Rumi