Home... what window do you look through and say.. this is my home? What human do you turn to and say...this is our home? What creature do you turn to and say.. this is our home? None... I don’t have one.
Filled with babies, cakes, balloons, chatter, rust, bones, joy, pain , sorrow..memories.
A concrete fortress is all I have now. No chatter.
Rubbing up against my skin like a harsh sponge scrubbing away the dark thoughts.
My toenails need painting. I guess I’ll go do that.
Why did I not learn more before my children were born?
I could have been a teacher of awareness.
Observing all that is around them without identification.
Pure consciousness of every object, person, plant, animal... all living things.
Instead of me teaching them....
They taught me.
Life’s suffering wheel taught me.
My wheel is so worn.
Can it still take me to my destination where I can bring them to a higher sense of consciousness and love?
Or did I fail them in this lifetime?
I pray I still have time.
Time for them to teach me.
To show me the stillness and beauty of our humanity.
Each time my mind graces upon the convex image of them, I have a selfish gratitude well up inside me.
Teach me to gaze upon them
Without my ego, just as I would gaze upon a field of flowers.
To be one with them in peace.
myriad of shades that pass before my lens.
It’s big toe dipping into the color of the vibration ...the jet flying overhead loud as to drown out my color wheel.
I need quiet.
Then the cars drive by...
When will we ever hear, feel and immerse ourselves in the color of stillness?
The slit of color left is fading fast. Soon to be gone.
Soon darkness will reign.
Turn me upside down and lay me on the pillowy clouds to regal in your SUN-SET glory... or is it
That is how we should live... always looking upside down.
Then we truly see.
Your roots reach out and arch toward me. Or to the Sea?
The reddish brown color outlining my heart...
Intertwined deeply amoungst each other’s arms and fingers threaded together looking for that element of love nourishment...
My heart reaches like you, though you are silent,
I cry out.
My reach is much farther and deeper than yours...
But as I gaze upon the seaweed wrapped around your roots, are you struggling to breathe?
Or are those delicate layers holding you close and feeding you, laying so still with the movement of tide... visiting and leaving all at the same time?
Are we just visiting and leaving over and over again?
Our marks of love as a scar or a mark of beauty?
How simple to be a mangrove.
How lovely to be a mangrove.
How painful to be a mangrove,
as you leech the salt from your roots to your limbs...
We are connected you and I...
I just have too much seaweed and sea moss attached to my soul for now...
Teach me to exist as you Mr. Mangrove.
Reach for love...
Here all along
It took a Pandemic?
An event so epic?
We were here.
Your washed hair
Your soothed back
Your tired eyes closed by us
Your linen freshed
The beautiful beat of your heart song under our stethoscope .
Your pulse faintly under our fingertips
Your IV medications carefully watched by eyes of compassion
Why notice us now?
The frail grip of your mortality has you look at us...
a lens into the eyes of our soul to show you what you already know?
It’s love, a calling, a deep longing of OUR human heart to be a light of compassion.
That tear we wipe from your eyes, it already lived in ours.
We are just here to share that liquid moment with you.
The pandemic uncovered.
The Virus of Protection
It’s quiet. Silent. Whisper. Here.
I can’t feel the air run through my lungs... your love runs through my lungs.
Your touch runs through my lungs.
Your breath runs through my lungs.
Only your poison, viral poison. It’s attached to multiple cilia of my colleagues whom lay dying.
Why do you visit us?
What have we done?
Are We betrayers of your soul? Soil?
We only come to heal, heal all those around us, but did we forget you?
Our Mother Earth... we did. We laid ourselves at your feet for a respite, then jumped up with arms, ammunition, POISON!
So this is where you gather us in?
Embrace us at our death.
So then you may be renewed .
Ahh, Mother Earth is so wise.
A mother’s love.... never forgotten.
I can’t hear you.
What are you saying with your vibrato voice layered with chords of pain?
Inner ears can’t process the vibration.
Only echos of love can be transmitted across the sound divide.
Will you grab onto it?
Let it slip through your chaffed hands.
The bottom floor is waiting for you.
Rest there in your mother’s arms.
The storm is over.
Where did you place your ego?
In my lap?
I watched it sit there squirming with your dreamed up lover hovering over my shoulder.
You are like a virus... settling in my body and then moving on to another host.. laying your false ego and charm to infect our beautiful souls.
But we are warriors.
We slay those spars coming at us.
One at a time they splinter into a million pieces and lay at our feet to walk over.
My feet hurt.
They are too tender and soft to absorb the chards of ego glass you lay before me.
Time for a bandage.
I’m here but.
Where is the hand I hold as we cross the threshold of the front door?
Where is the hand that holds out that glass of wine for me as I glance up in
Where is that hand at the small
of my back during scattered,
not so engaging
Where is that hand balanced under the dessert plate?
Where is that hand on my knee for the long drive home?
I know where it is...
It is amputated from my existence over time....
No hand to hold-only a stub of false lies poking my mind of memories to torture my soul.
The phantom pain behind my low back-on the stem of a glass- on my knee and under the plate....CRASH!
The plate falls.
Glass breaks...right along with my dreams.