Wednesday, February 24, 2021

As Below, So Above

These underpinnings, these feelings,

Thoughts, fantasies and dreams

Rooted in the earth and in our bodies

Let's explore and understand


My heaven may be my hell, just brighter

And more forgiving: lustrous leaves,

Fragrant flowers and fabulous fruit

Grounded by my roots and their health


My dark shadows lend their texture

To every moment of my waking hours

Diving into the deep, moist soil of my soul

My tap root strong and solid full of

Colorful threads, winding tight like a baseball

Pushing through the soil like a carrot's plunge 

To the core of my being, to the earth


Filaments running off the tap root

Enjoying their own geographical adventure

Searching for minerals and water, other beings,

Sources that will be scooped up and into

This entire plant and soul


Roots move water and food
 upwards

Into my tree of life. I need these roots

To function and sometimes fear root rot

Or worse, to be root bound


Roots can be torn apart

By the upper world, the harsh

Aggressiveness of building homes

Water pipes, sewers and concrete


Protecting my roots, I hold the dirt

And my plant sturdy but cannot know

When a tragedy might occur, like a

Tornado, a hurricane, or a storm

Or just an injury for only one


Uprooting my plant and my roots

Forcing me to fall up above the earthen

Floor, I need help, someone or something to 

Replant and repair my roots, to keep me alive


Once restored and healed by human

Animal, plant or divine assistance

New and tender shoots sidle

Out from my fibrous filaments

Connecting to other plants and trees

To other people’s roots down below


We nourish each other underground

(And sometimes, above ground)

Below visual view of our human plantings

Connections like secretive holding hands while 

Kneeling on a church choir pew as a teen


Both erotic and spreading, we each

Wrap ourselves around other roots

Engaging, sometimes endangering and

Sometimes nourishing all of our roots, plants


We cannot survive or thrive

Without these other beings, who whirl

Around our succulent growths 

Bringing us food and drink

As we do them in our attachment

Our interrelatedness

Why, we even need worms in our lives

To keep the soil aerated for our best growth


When thirsty and weak or all alone

In this community underneath this planet's

Ground, we commune and communicate

We share our resources  

Gaining from this interconnection

Developing this hallowed, healthy community


And when we people and other living beings 

Transition to another

Space or time, we may be buried or deteriorate

Underground or our ashes sprinkled

Above the ground, Mother's Nature's

Nest and womb.


As below, so above 

How do we tend to our roots

And also help others grow?


Wednesday, February 10, 2021

The Shepherdess Series Poetry

 The Shepherdess Series #1


Crossing a frozen bridge from the north

A green meadow glistens in the sun

From far away trudges a tiny, old 

Woman carrying a staff. 

She is a shepherd.


Wandering closer and closer

I am fascinated by her movement, 

She glides graciously as if walking on water

Without any sounds of wetness


I move off the bridge toward her

No need for words

I have known her from some time 

And some place long ago

Somewhere I don't recall visiting


White hair, peasant blouse

Long flowing skirt, large nose,

Glasses, she gazes at me and

I look at her in awe


Our eyes meet, hers blue and deep

Mine, requesting, seeking, searching

What do you have to tell me

Or show me? I ask


Her eyes soften sweetly

Her gentle smile seems delighted

She offers me her staff

I accept it then worry, asking


How will you walk without your

Staff, your cane?

As she turns around to amble away,

She says she has no need of the staff anymore


Then, I watch as Spirited Beings, maybe 

Angels, seem to swarm around her lifting her

Up, helping her travel with them

Higher and higher, up into the sky


The Shepherdess Series #2


Along came a spider and

Spun a web beside me while

I cross the frozen bridge

During the early spring


Again, the Shepherdess waltzs

Toward me from afar

Same beatific, old wrinkled face 

Same clothes, same walk

But without her staff


I meet her, get closer for

A better look, mesmerized by

Her gaze and gifts without

Her saying a word


What can you tell me 

This time, Oh Wonder?

She offers me a bright white

Lamb that she has been holding

Though unseen until now by me


A lamb? A Lamb? is all 

I can utter.  Yes, she says 

Take care of my lamb, please

Won’t you?


I am amazed, astonished

Realizing something very

Important is happening to me

But not knowing exactly what it is


I carefully take the Lamb, holding it 

Awkwardly, curiously

Wondering what taking care of this Lamb

Will teach me and our world?