As She Lay Dying

As she lay dying
I held her hand gently.
Jerking away from me, she
Crushed my heart and soul.

Then, looking up at me
In shame, pleading with her
Eyes, she asked me to give her
Yet another chance to proclaim
Her love and loyalty. She doesn't
Mean to snap in reaction so intensely, 
But it happens time after time.

Still she lay dying.
I crawled up beside her
On the bed, and held her while 
She lay gasping, seeking her
Last breath.

No one could tear me away
From her cooling, dead body
For days and nights. Alas, I
Clung to her so long that our
Skin and organs merged together,
Siamese Twins.

As we entered paradise, we were
Never broken apart again.

Diving Into My Wreck (Adapted from Adrienne Rich's "Diving into the Wreck")

Diving into my wreck, swimming deep down
Eyes open, slippery skin, breathing in water, 
Surviving, ecstatic and amazed,
I can breathe easily
In this vast, translucent darkness.

The Canadian goose, my female guide, whispers
Don’t crawl, don’t walk but dive, swim deeper
Flow through the water like a porpoise, a mermaid,
A slithering snake, swirling around in the abyss, 
Avoiding a return to the air, to the light,
To the people.

So dark down here but I see so clearly
Beauty while gliding, free feelings, 
Not lost or scared.
Floating back up seems the frightening part,
Filling me with dread.

This is a private sanctuary, safe,
Warm and cool, sweet and sour.
I see only animals, fish beings, plants.
Mud too, dark oozing mud, 
Red like blood, but refreshing, bright blood
Not reeking of illness and death
But of new life, as I am 
Born and born again.

Back and forth, sometimes being
Catapulted by an impulse, some urge
To enter the light of day and
All that comes with it:
Air, people, and all the messes we 
Make of our lives.
Up in the air, I sometimes long to
Dive back down knowing
I will find more peace and harmony
Than up top. 
I don't breathe as well up there.

Even though a shark, a dragon, 
Stinging nettles and a harsh man of war 
Slide by, I am encapsulated in a cocoon
Of love, of wistful patience and gentleness
(No inner critic here. She lives only above the 
Dark water, where she breathes
Thick, nasty, poisonous air that focuses
Her arrows of anger and irritation,
Stay away!)

Mother Earth, Mother Spirit, Divine Feminine,
I glide through your smelly waters
Enjoying the pulsing waves and undercurrents,
The storms and the quiet calm,
And everything in between.  You hold me,
You lift me up and I can float all day long
And into the night alone, unfettered by
Talk and thinking, worrying and longing.

Not here. Here I am safe and free to be
Me, myself and no other.
My father always said, “Just be yourself,
Just be Your Self.”

Now, I am dancing and singing,
Writing, reading and creating art, and
Thoroughly enjoying myself and my life.
Joyous. Peaceful. Real.

Break Open the Cages (In Memoriam to Merrill)

I see a nest with eggs, a mother bird beside.

I want to be that bird, that nest, those eggs, all.

Each serves a function

Each has spirit and life.

But my egg is constraining,

Caged in by that awful but

Wondrous shell, the shell

That protects, the shell that

Limits, the shell that is both

Necessary and there to be

Broken apart when I am growing

Too big to stay in, too pretzled to move,

So tired of being so young and good.

I want to break out.

But only when I am ready, grown up

Enough to lose the shell that encases me,

Still protecting me but keeping me

From exploring many other parts of life,

The air, the sand, the sea, the wind,

The mountains, trees and flowers.

The shell Interferes with connecting to others
Who are like me but not like me,
Sometimes wonderfully loving, exciting,
Calm and true, and sometimes
Breaking me up into little

Pieces that shatter without having that

Shell to keep me from flying apart.

Speaking of flying, I want to not just

Escape this shell (or, rather shells),

I want to fly not away but toward

The Now of my life,

Each day, each moment, now.

Flying helps because I am nimble,

Light and strong, and can rush toward

The altar that I desire only to wing away

When a fire destroys this altar and

Every little piece of faith I ever had.

Faltering, swooping, not really free yet.

I must eat, I must sleep, I must also

Find safety not in a new shell but in a slick, flexible

Membrane with porous openings all around,

So that I can still breathe the air, smell

The flowers, get lost in the trees and

Rest deeply in the safe new nest that

I have built for myself.

A new nest with sights and sounds,

Height and balance, I can swing throughout

The trees on vines like a monkey, or I can

Rest beside the trunk, the north side of moss.

Soft, sequestered, damp and moist, I

Awaken once again into my Self

My true being, broken apart, torn up and

Scarred, but still curious and open to my

New Life, New Love, risking all just to be

Free.

(Written at the July 2017 Crazy Brave workshop with Tobi Fishel and Merrill Farnsworth. I did not know that Merrill was ill. In Memoriam to Merrill.)

No Attempt, May 20, 2018

No attempt was made to save her life.

Everyone knew he was troubled.

Wearing a trench coat for a year

Hiding his shame beneath his guns,

His self-loathing and rage after being

Bullied, beaten up far too often.

The girl befriended him, trying

To be an open, caring person,

Until he misread her signals, her cues.

She had broken his heart without ever

Even knowing it.

Until he shot her dead inside the school.

There she learned all there is to know

About life and death, love and sacrifice.

The boy didn’t have the courage

To kill himself after murdering so many others,

No courage at all to turn the gun on himself.

The other students thought this was just a

Fire drill, eyes glued to their phones

Sauntering outside the school building

Only to learn later of the havoc, the horror:

10 people dead, 10 wounded.

It is time to talk about guns. It has been time for so long.

How many more children, how many people need to die

Before we say,

STOP.

We will not allow our children

To enter school buildings scared that the next shooter will be

One of them, when some boy has just had enough

And goes out with a bang, and no whimper.

When will we protect the children,

Who are slain, mutilated, cut off at the knees

Before they have a chance to fully live?

Who will stop the shooters if we don’t do something

DRASTIC

to keep guns out of these shooters’ hands?

No real attempt has been made to save any of their lives.

Thread by Thread

A needle found

Inside a haystack

Sharp, shiny, possibly

Threatening,

Undiscovered until now.

No one paid attention to

The needle’s gleam, her

Sexy, smooth, solitary

Features until

The needle began to do her work.

Pricking, then piercing, stabbing,

Awkwardly and clumsy at first,

Attempting to tie us all together,

To stitch up this planet

Full of so many beings and energies,

Broken and frayed pieces

Just lying about.

Bringing together not only colorful new

Threads but old, wispy ones,

Threads of all kinds, shapes and

Sizes, exotic and unusual threads.

Connecting thread to thread

Pulling seams together,

Leaving space for

Freedom of movement,

And flexibility.

Planning to create a brand new

Sanctified, rare body of cloth, a fabric

Flowing with fertilized flowers and

Fomenting fragrances.

Mending muted misery and pain,

Sewing up the hearts of grief,

Tending to the wounds,

Linking blood to cells and bones,

Piecing together the membrane

Holding lungs, brains, and livers.

Sorting through the tangles,

Smoothing out the separateness,

Collecting and weaving stray,

Wandering threads and attaching

Them, connecting one to another.

Thread by thread,

Tear by tear.

Rip by rip.

Knot by knot.

Patches peeking

Through holes and

Jagged edges.

Sturdy, powerful cloth,

Woven by the soft, gnarled hands

Of a newly born seamstress,

Plunging her needle with surgical

Precision into the clouds,

Grasses and oceans, looping the

Sky together with the fertile soil,

Gently and tenderly tugging together

Disparate diadems of minerals,

Plants, animals and air.

Exploring beyond the

Physical earth to other realms,

Other planes, other life,

Slicing, stitching space, stars

Moon and Sun,

Creating love and closeness,

Transforming together into new life,

Healing one and all.

No matter who you are

No matter where you have been

No matter who your ancestors were

No matter what you have done

No matter what you think and feel

No matter how you act.

We are all one.

One Being, One Love, One Power.

Magical Grace

As I lay floating in fascinating fluid,

I breathe deeply, murmuring the word

“Grace” over and over.

Suddenly, I am surprised,

Virgin gills sprouting in my neck,

As I sink lower and lower, deeper into that

Faithful fluid, still breathing, miraculously.

What is Magic?” I wonder.

“Why, here I am,” Magic spoke,

“I am you and you are me and

Together we make magic."

Still not quite believing, I asked

Magic, “What’s my name?” and

I heard not the name given at my birth

But my real name,

One that I chose when

I began this journey. The

Name that called me, spoke to me,

Not in a whisper but oh so clearly,

A wisdom, a knowing, a blessing.

Ah, Magic, maybe I do know you

And you, me. Are you the

Wind that rustles the leaves, lifting

Just one shining leaf aloft?

Are you the currents I travel on as

I soar above, a hawk hunting prey?

Or, are you my peacock part,

Strutting tail feathers flaring, or

My Mama Grizzly part who

Protects her babies?

Are you my jaguar side

Stealthily wandering 

Through the fierce forest

Intent on ferreting out food?

Ah, Magic, are you also the

Mystical Muse who prompts me

To write, because these words

Just come through me (I am not

The Author, I think).

Oh, Magic, are you also the salt

Water that holds me afloat but also

Pulls me under at times, almost

Drowning me when I experience

Agonizing, abysmal feelings, sad and

Sorrowful feelings of grief and anger,

Tormenting me at times?

Or, Magic, are you Grace, and do you also

Push me back up from those watery depths that

Seem to seek to kill me with their seduction,

Exhaling your breath into my floating body?

Perhaps, Magic, you are Grace, playing

The music that drenches my

Bones with its bass notes and taunting

Beats, devouring me like a lover who has

Been away far too long.

Ah, Magical Grace, no longer do you perplex me

With wonder, but you open me up like the

Voice of an angel, cloaked at times like an

Evil spirit that longs to escape these binds

That keep me from blossoming.

Magical Grace, I believe you now. I believe

I have worshiped you all of my life.

Mesmerize me with your spirit,

Breathe into me again and again.

How do I find you?

She responds:

"Breathe, Relax, Float, Listen, Be Still.

Breathe some more and let

Me take over your heart, your mind,

Your body and your soul while you rest

In Bliss, awake in Joy."