the realization
that your experiences
are not unique.
anything can be poetry if you're brave enough.
the realization
that your experiences
are not unique.
when birds sing
are they aware of their audience?
or do they simply sing
because they know they must?
be the bird you hear through your window
who doesn’t know you’re listening.
sing
not because someone is listening
but because you know you must.
you never know whose ears your song will reach
& you may never find out.
perhaps it is better that way.
there are things
about which I currently have no idea
that will someday rock my world.
I no longer tolerate poison inside myself.
I no longer tolerate hatred
anxiety
shame
self pity.
This doesn’t mean they won’t overwhelm or attack me.
It means in the middle of the storm, I will hold fast to the Eye that says:
you can do better.
I no longer have patience
for soul-poison.
I am human; it may fool me for a moment.
But it will not claim me.
I will be tested. Again & again.
I don’t know how I will make it.
That’s okay. I’ll start there.
I’ll start with “I don’t know”
& give the rest up to Spirit
so that when something comes along that is not of my Divine nature,
I will recognize it.
People may not understand.
That’s the hardest part.
Keeping my Spirit under lock & key
helps me feel safe around others.
I seek to release the fear
of what they will think–
of my refusal
to settle for less
than the glory we were made for.
Now, instead of approval
I will seek soul-fire.
when I was a child
I played Loki the norse trickster god
in the class play
& one of my lines was:
where there’s a wall
there’s a way.
too often
we fear the trickster.
we forget she is essential
for she teaches us how
to scale walls.
when is enough
enough?
when do you pick yourself up off the floor
kiss each broken piece with a new mother's tenderness
and promise to put yourself back together?
from whence comes that moment of grace
when clarity splits the atoms of your understanding
and you realize who you are?
when is your world
in black & white
& when
is it in technicolor?
caution:
don't ignore the technicolor.
make it your lifeline.
your rainbow iv.
who knows?
maybe there'll be a perfect convergence
of the roads between kansas and oz.
what if
you are
a ragged block
of stone
throughout which
are woven
thousands
of nerve endings
and life
chips away
with her
iron chisel
& each time
hurts
a little more
but
in the end
you are
a masterpiece
your prison
is your
wilderness
your cage
an open sky
for why would you
create if not
escape
from space confined
wise women know
the caged bird's song
wise men
the battle cry
of soul unleashed
from genie's lamp
of hands from
rope untied.
curse not your chains nor weights of stone
for without them art would be unknown.
shelter me
in the sphere
of my dreams