Sink deep into my body,
Allow the words to form,
Out of feelings from far below,
Tasting droplets of sweet silence,
That permeates the golden dusk,
Settling like a cloak, adorned with stars and
Nestling around the hills,
Tucking the trees into deep slumber.
Settling life in for a calm night in,
The depths of our psyche,
Pulling us down, deeper and slower,
Until dreams awake inside of our bodies,
To create a wellspring of sweet stories,
To dangerous for the false blanket
Wrapped around our daily reality.
I am not a cure for your loneliness.
I can hold your hand, look in your eyes,
and let you know it won’t last forever.
But don’t try to drink me like medicine,
for when I run dry
you’ll toss me away,
looking always looking for a cure.
Don’t you see me,
really see me?
No, how could you,
you don’t even see yourself.
A mirror for your despair.
For you were shown,
in so many ways
that so much of you was unlovable,
not good enough, too rough, wild, impure, dangerous.
To squeeze into a box of acceptable,
you had to chop away at the “bad” bits,
just so someone would finally hold you, rock you,
show you in so many ways
how beautiful, how good, how much love you are.
But forever hungry,
a compulsive lover,
a hopeless romantic,
addicted to love, thrills, sex, drugs.
Make me high, fly me to the moon,
just take away the pain of loneliness.
How can I when it is you, not I,
that chopped yourself to bits.
If you really want to know about loneliness,
ask those parts,
they hold your pain,
and the loneliness is their voice
calling out for your love.
I have no beginning or end,
I exist only now,
but now is all time,
held within absolute awareness.
To stretch a moment out
until the ocean of existence
is contained within it.
To feel eternity of self in but a second.
I do not depend upon
time’s stream to move about,
as all experiences are but interwoven layers
permeating the now.
I reveal the illusion of death
perceived through time’s movement.
Though every second is
an act of creation/destruction.
This divine play is but a repetition
of building anew from the shattered tower of
For all the beautiful hearts out there,
never let your light go out,
never be less than who you are.
I hate to make you leave,
but you pushed me away.
To afraid to untangle,
the bonds that keep you bound.
To afraid to love me.
I am easy to love,
just call me yours,
and I will melt into the air,
kissing the sky with your words.
I hate to leave,
but if I stay,
I will slowly crumble
until all that is me
has turned to dust,
swept easily into the snow.
I am only a girl
with a heart as big as the world,
who lost her way
when she believed she was no good.
I hate to say “I told you so”
that morning, many mornings ago.
That crisp and icy morning
when you professed to me,
how you could never love another,
as your heart showed me
a different story.
I am alone again,
no more than the stars though,
no more than the ocean at night
under the moons loving light.
I just came home from a beautiful workshop in which we explored different divinatory methods. We watched this short video on Doors/Doorways and all the different symbols and meanings they hold for us, in an attempt to tap into our imaginations, in order to engage with that part of our minds for the weekend retreat. We were then asked to meditate in front of a doorway and write what came to us. I wrote this little poem that I would like to share.
The door beckons me,
a sense of longing creeps in,
for new surroundings,
for the door of my mind to crack open,
and spill the light of clarity.
I stand on one side,
always wanting to be on the other,
I don’t want here, I want there.
It’s a feeling of being cramped
within limited perception,
a container of I,
always bound by the door of
self, of body.
Beyond lies my death,
and also my soul.
I leap across and find
the other side transforms,
like the shift of space
seeps into porous skin,
remolding mind and body.