"We're all just walking each other home." - - Ram Dass

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sisters of the Rising Moon

To Adriel Denae,
              your presence is life affirming. your soul is divinely breathed. thank you for your friendship.

we lie under the swollen belly of the full moon.
in its depths we share our stories
our rising selves.

although the darkness shrouds it
I recognize the heat in your eye
the passion to take this ol' world and capture it in a jar.

we, two souls, born apart
met long before this world began.

sisters, formed of the same dust
same heart embers stoked to hot.

grounded in our tie to divinity
committed to loving wildly
to the emerging knowledge of self.

gently we remove our sandals
washing each others feet with our hair.

holding steady. braced.
for the quiet quaking of earth
tilting towards the sun.

the daylight finds us
tripping through the woods
through our histories
breathing deep the futures freedom.

bodies in movement across a shared stove
weaving our hands, our efforts
into the communion of brokenness
bread. and body.

too soon the miles divide us
too soon our hearts restricted
to pen on page.

but through each passing
each dipping low of sun

we will return to each other
chins lifted up
moon spilling holy across our face.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Dreams Born Under a Patchwork Sky

We bury ourselves
 deep down 
as far as we can crouch in her twin bed

She has the covers up over our heads, because
"you can dream better this way."

My mama limbs are 
a tangle with the limbs of 
budding youth.

Skin, just beginning to show signs of wear
pressed up against
skin, just starting to live.

And we whisper
because wonder can only be spoken
in hushed tones.

She's clutching the worn velvet smooth
slightly yellowed pages of the books, 
the souls of my youth.

pages that through every little
dog ear

bear the history my childhood
mapping it out 
as if I had wanted her to find me.

And in this moment,
I don't know who's dreams,

hers or my girlhood's past,

that are making
 the air hot. 
almost stifling in their urgency.

My very dreams were born just like this.

When the flashlight ignites the spark of her eye,
settles over her pursed lips
and chest rising and falling with pentameter 

I know hers are dawning, too.

And oh, how now, I dream for her
 to run further
dive deeper
to live wilder 
than she'll ever dream possible.

And yet, how to tell her

watching the beams of light 
creep slowly along the quilt seams - 

the deep blue thread, 

spanning out around us
holding it all together 
with a thin strength

like the shared blue blood
coursing hot 
through our veins.

That those dreams, worth every second
cannot compete with sharing 
this present moment together, 

her life by my side.
exploring the horizons of far off futures,

while praying desperately to stay
in this moment forever.

 under a patchwork sky.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Endless Summer

A fly circles past me, his buzzing loud. drunk. on summer air and easy living.

My tongue touches the corner of my lip
equal parts bitter from the rhubarb we just pulled from the ground and
unnaturally sweet from the saccharin he kept in his pocket
for moments just like these.

The undersides of my arms dried sticky red
with a few fresh scratches from the wild raspberry bush 
we just took on with reckless abandon.

Now, we're crouching low in the outskirts of his garden
my bare toes curl feeling the dark cool silk of flesh and soil connected. 

This is how I loved him. Drawing his essence closer to my core every moment I spent by his side.

His eyes twinkle with a mischief
that only the very young or very old possess; 
as he pantomimes for me to be quiet and to stay low so grandma didn't see - 

Rap.Rap.Rap. On her window glass - 

"Hey you two, get out of my strawberry patch!"

I take off
my sides soon aching from the Minnesota summer air that fills my lungs 
and bubbling laughter that fills my soul 
feeling the pleasant sting of the tall grass against my face
my body propelled forward by joy
clutching my stolen red jewels. 

The sun hangs lower in the sky as I sit beside him now.
Knobby knees and sprouting limbs tucked beneath me as I trace a map of my world with pebbles from the walk way.
I sit quiet, taking my cue from him beside me;
whose only sound is his labored breath, surveying the birds who have found refuge in his feeder.

For what seems like hours for this growing girl,
he passes his time just so.

The top two buttons of his work shirt undone,
expose the white undershirt below.

His full hands curl
bent comfortably at his side.

In the distance 
the fields he worked by hand
the barn he built
his crop swaying in the dusk air
nestled between the pines he planted.

He sits in the peace of the working man.

Teaching me through example
to be content
to be present
to be connected. 

Oh, the days that were past like this; growing me softly in the strength of his shade.

Until, his life was ushered out with the winter wind...

As I stood over his spot in the frozen ground,
I knew he didn't belong here, in the unrelenting cold.  
Even the trees bent heavy; weighed down with the snow and grief.

As the taps played
I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of our bodies
pressed together over the rumble of the tractor. 

His stories that rustled the cat tales as we walked past
never in a hurry for we were where we were meant to be.

No, he did not belong among the sleeping.

In the beds made of frozen mounds
with no one to hold him but the cold northern wind.

with the unlit fires
cold hearts
and unseeing eyes.

He belongs to the fireflies dancing, blurring the lines of heaven and earth.
He belongs in the soft twitch of the doe's ear, coming silently out of his woods.
Moments spent heads lifted together, eyes reflecting the moon through the lace of trees. 

He belongs with the lark meadows.
To the smell of dirt made ripe with morning dew.
To fish made ripples across glass-topped lake water.

He belongs to endless summer.

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