The Centre Cannot Hold *

She seemed locked up

In the prison of her mind

Something gone awry

Screws loosened

Blood flowed oddly

She spoke about cyber attacks

Computers crashing

The state of this chaotic society

The world coming to an end

She was dead, she said

Total nonsense, some thought

She is out of her mind, others surmised

When I looked at her

I wondered similarly

I could see the strain

The draining of oxygen to her brain

No longer feeding her

Seeping away

She stated clearly 

"It is all around us, you too"

We didn’t know what to make of

Her stories and fantasies

Seemingly partially triggered

By news of the day or by a movie

A book

Current 3D reality

Full of horrors

The next day, we found that

Solar storm surges had happened

The day she fell apart

Aurora Borealis was created

Northern lights burst

The Holy Grail of sky watchers

The sun ejecting stormy

Plasma bubbles crashing into

The Earth’s ionosphere

These auroral beads lit up

Like geometric patterns

Our atmosphere fluoresced

Amazingly gorgeous colors shone 

Unlike we have ever seen

In this part of the world

Had her brain lit up as well?

Was she mad or not?

Or was she just
Detached from our usual reality?

A hospital’s medical records had 

Actually been cyber attacked

That same day

Shutting the system down

As she predicted or knew

Did she belong locked up 

In a hospital after all?

She knew her mind

Had been harmed  

A perfect storm 

Each story she shared had a

Ring of truth

Perhaps exaggerated and stunning

Shocking, or not

Was she a psychiatric patient

A psychic or a prophet?

Now she seeks emancipation 

From the barbed wire

Clogging up her mind

She longs for freedom

From the locked doors 

That are meant to keep her

Safe

Will she be further damaged or

Shamed or lose her independence

Because these geometric storms

Her genetics and history 

The internet and AI

Have swallowed her up?

Is our grid falling apart?

Perhaps the Centre cannot hold?

*A line from WB Yeats’ poem, The Second Coming

Always and Everywhere

To been born into this world is traumatic

From warm and comfy womb

To traveling down a long

Tight Tunnel, pushing out into the 

Bright Cold Light of a hospital room or home

Taking our first human breaths in reaction to 

This first trauma of our lives

Our jobs are to grow

To develop into human beings 

As best we can 

Or rather, we struggle to 

Become functional enough to find

Some independence at some point

And to love others along the way

If we can

(Receiving love is a whole different matter)

As we explore and clear away 

Our old survival patterns

The habits we have needed in order to live

With as little pain as possible

(Our brains are wondrous, helping us

Deny and avoid lots of pain after

Trauma and neglect occur

Our memories sometimes also collude)

We find openings to a path toward

A more full, loving, generous and kind

Human Life

How we manage to do that may be

By working through  

Using all sorts of methods and attempts

Practical techniques and experiences

Creative ways to heal our wounds

To find our own true life blueprints and 

Destinies

That feed us as we feed our worlds

(Or, not, and we suffer)

We know when transformation 

Has happened because

For the first time ever really

We breathe more clearly 

See and hear more clearly

Touch more easily

All that is around us and inside of us

And then, we know, we acknowledge and

Accept all that is without resistance

(Even though we have many feelings about it all)

We search until we find a tiny spark of life

That is our Spirit living in our human body

Surrounded by, loved by, and blessed by

The Divine

Is the Divine

The spark grows larger

Filling us with bright colorful light

No longer covered up and imprisoned by 

So many shoulds and have to's and guilt

And stress and everything else that doesn’t 

Really matter

Then, we float more gently 

Around our world in a

Delighted state of Being

Looking here and there

Loving here and there

Giving to others here and there

And finding true freedom and

Emancipation here and there

Always and everywhere

Burn it all away

Cleaning out history

Going through drawers

Cabinets, files, desks

Basement boxes

Closets and more

Finding notes and writings

From so long ago

I barely remember context

Viewing biological artifacts

That no longer serve

Blowing off the dust

Dead bugs and spiders

Photos before and after changes

Photos of appearances

From so long ago

What do I do with photos of

My families’ lives

That start before

The 1930’s 

Given to me to pass along?

Is there a heart-filled

Storage house available?

Or, rather do I throw away

Tangibles

No longer present

No longer needing to explore

What happened then

(Enough time and energy has 

Been devoted to the past 

Excavating history

Throughout my life)

Discarding pieces into the ground

To be recycled as I release

So many energies 

Back to the earth

To the skies

To the water

Exfoliating and excreting

So much stuff

These symbols of 

Long and full lives

No longer needing to be visually

Memorialized except in my

Heart and mind

Body and soul

Or, rather, should I hang onto

This part and that part

Screening out the tragedies

Keeping the good times?

I hear:

Burn it all away

Before collecting more

Create space, empty out

Ashes to ashes

Cleansing while not denying

Or avoiding

Having acknowledged and 

Accepted these experiences

While living in the present

More fully, no strings attached

No umbilical cords

Tying me to what once was

During my former life here

Preparing for the New Earth

Facing the void

Wandering down into the caves

Unearthing, and then 

Transforming what was into

What is now