Late Summer Morning

The news of rain reaches my nose first
Dissipating dust, heat and the opening of plant pores waft into my bedroom window
Just above my half sleeping form

I become alert, breathe more easily as I cool and everything around me cools.

Between exhales of relief, the tension of hot days evaporating,
I grieve

Tomatoes, melons, children from my past, friendships with elders
That will never reach their full fruition.

What I Can Give You

I can sit silently holding your grief in my arms, cradling it to me,
This chasm pulling you inward,
Taking your hand and holding you there until you are ready to crawl out.
Hearing what shouldn't be and what you don't want to share.
Feeling your pain within my marrow - circulating, pinching my muscles and becoming my own.

Welling up inside of me is a warrior, six feet tall, muscled, immovable,
Fierce, Shiva-Amazon-bear-banshee-malevolent-Pandora-huntress-Woman.
Unleash her for you, breathing, exhaling,
Winds that wipe away those who would wound you.
Let her move hearts for you with her gaze and presence,
Standing her ground until your will is done.
Holding time for you until you are your own army.

I can stand back and let you fight, ready to soothe your wounds.
Feed you, encourage you, push you forward.
Mara mother, Tara teacher, birthing you back to your own battle.

I can share your joy. I can quote Sufi lovers to you,
Men who experience the divine ecstasy of the mystery that is what connects you and me
You and them
Me and them.
Orthodox Jews who explain I and Thou.
Women who dance over fires and welcome each other to the struggle to be witnesses
To the experience of now, but can hold your yesterday and face you toward tomorrow.

I can tell you what I see in you,
Or what you need to hear right now.
I can sit with your indecision, or wait patiently as you get sidetracked,
Allowing you to make mistakes that aren't really mistakes, but aren't your true self.
I will be here waiting for you on the other side of this labyrinth
Winding us what seems like further apart but getting us closer to our centers.

It is my purpose and my meaning,
My need and my gift,
What I can share.

Hope Frozen

Today I tossed 7 little plastic bottles of hope into the dumpster.

7 frosted-over vials of love and wishes
breast milk for a baby who will never drink it

little labels with cartoon elephants
marked 2:50 AM

mom's sleepless night
dad's shift at the NICU

7 little containers holding so many possible futures gone

my hands are still cold despite hugs and words unspoken 
there are no words that heal the loss that leaves 7 little bottles frozen.

Spring Again

Rain stipples the sidewalk around me.

Gentle scents of daphne, hyacinth,

Evergreen clematis like jasmine. 

Breath of warmed soil startled awake.

Inner Silence

Hush my dear one
Like the sound of wind caressing green leaves. 


You cannot lead through violence,
Threats
Anger. 


You cannot force your will upon me. 
I refuse and grow rigid, defiant
and we both lose. 


Hush my dear one
Like the sound of wind caressing green leaves
I will comfort you. 


Your words cut like knives through me, my own 
self-inflicted pain 
Seep slowly through fibers of flesh and spirit  
Slow poison. 


Hush my dear one
Like the sound of wind caressing green leaves. 


                                Hush 


I will hold you
You are loved 


                                 You are loved. 

Falling Away

Under tiny needles
I am drawn deeper into myself.
Deep enough to fall away beyond myself.

I am not under the tree of light today, sitting still while waves lap on shores around me.
I am the light.

We are an innumerable collection of lights,
Of energy. Moving while still.
Individually collective.