Fragile

 Life is fragile,
fluffy dandelion wishes
blown away on a breeze. 

I lose myself in tales of love,
kindness and belonging. 

But life is still fragile,
blown away on a breeze. 

Dark Tunnel

I was in the dark tunnel red mind, shaking, clutching, my glasses, my water bottle, my raft, with wide eyed terror, in the deepest eye of the storm.

I came out after, rocking, swaying close,
singing loud,
and I knew I was safe and saved,
with the light ahead shining warm
in the dark tunnel red mind. 

Beloved

You said this will be me - coming up from the wilderness, leaning on her beloved.

I am still here in the wilderness,
in the bright sun and sand.
I am dancing in circles,
singing and wailing,
digging deep,
with my beloved.
My beloved, she is holding and guiding me on.

Broken Glass

I am broken glass at the foot of the stairs, you are wandering, in your own storms, unaware; the storms I’ve spent my life reaching to, tending.

Now I take the glass, gently gathering
into this warm cocoon,
this tender, loving womb.

Love, love, love

The world is imploding, the monstrous, bloated, fragile men devour and rule.

I light the candles in our grate,
trim the lavender in our front garden,
write my soul aching until I awaken,
and name my blessings for peace.

And love, love, love myself,
and love, love, love everyone else,
and gather the love poured on me from precious others.
 
So while the bloated, fragile men devour and rule,
we make connection, empathy,
ringing truth, limitless joy. 

Tangled Iron

The cord on our iron is tangled, twisted, knotted. When I iron I’m yanking, choked.

One morning, at the beginning of my week off,
with time stretching ahead, unconstrained,
I do yoga for my nagging shoulder pain,
then slowly untangle the knotted iron cord,
untwisting the opposite twisted way,
releasing.
Afterwards I iron easy -
gliding
with freedom. 

Red Chair

You say you have the only red chair in the dining hall. Everyone knows it’s Moses’ chair. You say, bemused, “some people just want to be normal”. I love it that you don’t want to be ‘normal’, that you blaze a singular path shining, that you insist on having the only red chair in the dining hall.

Real Treasure

I feel I’ve found the pearl of great price, the treasure hidden deep in the earth.

It is in a life lived in authentic connection,
soul bare-ing, eyes open, realness.

It is in so many safe, knitted spaces,
webbed and woven, fraying.

It is where we share our cracks, our aching sores,
our eyes, words, in solid ground, in ringing truth.

I’ve found the pearl of great price,
the treasure hidden deep in the earth. 

Stones

In this place creativity is bursting colour from the walls free, it doesn’t care if we think it’s good.

My neck is taut,
my shoulders aching and heavy,
the dark stones thud in the pit of my stomach.

Can I let them roll out my feet,
bouncing, laughing, along
a trickling, dancing, river
free.