

Look up
Notice that leaf
on an uppermost branch.
The wind challenges
its heroic grasp.
*
All of its treemates
have long since released
their tenuous hold on life
blowing as they do into
far pastures and lanes,
byways fill with their corpses.
*
They reveal
as they die
the winter’s architecture
of the cottonwood tree-
A ghost in black relief-
the autumn moon watching
through its arms.
*
Look up
The leaf is holding on
to what is not meant for it -
Holding on
to this idea of immortality -
all the while losing
its grip
on the one life it has known.
*
This leaf
is one of millions of leaves
come and gone
in this ghost’s lifetime.
*
In autumn we say goodbye.

I want to be a light for you
*
shining the way
down the path,
to the doors,
around the obstacles.
*
I have no strength to give you,
No solutions to offer you.
*
I can’t pick you up,
can’t carry you,
can’t force you to see.
*
All I can do
is say -
Hey look!
Did you notice that?
Do you see the choice?
Can you feel your power?
*
All I can do is
Light up the dark places -
show you another way to walk.
*
All I can do is
Shine a light in your heart,
point out what was already there -
*
which is Strength Unimaginable
Goodness Unrealized
Resilience Untapped.
*
My light can speak truth
Into your dark places.
*
Let me be your light.

No one ever wrote your name in the stars.
*
Never sat under the night sky
And pointed up, saying,
See how it makes an A, and an N?
You belong to the universe.
You’re made of stardust, child.
*
No one laid under a tree
In the shade on a sunny day
And pointed up, saying,
See how the world spins?
How all of nature is swirling with joy
Over who you will be?
You belong to Mother Nature.
You’re made of the earth, child.
*
No one wrapped you up
When you were angry or sad or scared
And pointed to your heart, saying,
See how you feel?
It’s okay. I’m here.
You belong to me.
You’re made of me, child.
*
Who taught you to
Narrow your eyes
Suspicious of everything
And everyone
Who will let you down…
Because they will let you down?
*
Who has said,
You’re not stardust,
You’re just dust.
You’re not made of earth,
You’re just dirt.
You’re not made of me,
I don’t want you?
*
Give me a chance, child.
*
Let me show you
The glimmer of stardust in your eyes,
And how your horse responds
To the earth in your body,
You two made of the same clay.
*
Let me show you
That you are me,
*
And I am you,
*
And we belong to each other,
*
And that it is safe to hope.
*
“The cosmos is with us. We are made of star-stuff. We are the way for the universe to know itself.”
- Carl Sagan

I call myself a Teacher
but today,
the horse called me
Observer.
~~
It said, stand back.
Watch how I gather
unruly energy
and place it,
quiet, but white hot
in their bellies.
~~
Watch how I pluck
unintelligible words from the air
and make them clear.
~~
Opaque hearts,
now transparent.
Inscrutable eyes,
open.
~~
Observe, teacher,
how I take the shy
the loner
the heartbroken
the sad
and lean into them –
filling the dark holes,
demanding presence.
~~
Making them forget for a moment
their cuts
their violence
their hunger.
~~
And so, today, I am not a teacher.
Like Amos,
“I am not a prophet,
nor am I the son of a prophet,
but I am a herdsman,
plucking wild figs.”
~~
I’m gathering their stories.
Hold out your hand -
I’m giving them to you.

Hard lines, curves.
Circles bringing you
back around,
spiraling in and out
of the heart.
Broken pieces
hidden under strength,
color peeking from
behind black and white
and black oozing
from the inner sanctuary.
And abstraction,
An Actuality –
housed in the same body.
Mindful
distracted
Holding on
looking away.
Shapes and dribbles
held up by borders
of another’s design
struggling to break
Free.
Voice lodged in the throat
head down
bent low
walking forward
Bridges in and out of
the heart
Leading to here
and to heaven
and to hell.
________________________________________
**inspired by the abstract expressionist painting “Woman” by Judith Godwin – 1954.

In the space
between winter sunrises
and summer sunsets
lies a brief moment
of Technicolor green.
~~
It pours over my eyelids
satiating the thirst.
I blink
and squint
and blink again,
wondering if this is a dream
or a wish
I’ll wake up from.
~~
It heats up my corneas
and burns my retinas.
I close my eyes
and still, I see it –
emerald
jade
blades and leaves
shouting their birth,
their significance
in the order of things.
~~
I’m drunk
I’m dizzy.
I swim in the briefness
the gaiety
the reverie
of spring.

Sometimes I catch her gazing at the sunrise.
She faces east
and looks up, staring
as she chews her hay.
~~
She seems to be contemplating;
but, what? Read more…

My thoughts have exploded into a million pieces and are floating flotsam above my head. I try to reach up and catch them and piece them back together, but they turn to dust on my fingertips. I let go and look up and they’ve formed back into broken bits of gravel, irritating my mind.
I arrive and sit on the mat, placed in my favorite spot where the sunlight filters through the window; and I begin to rein in my breath.