Archive | March, 2012

Lay Me Down

30 Mar

I sit among your branches
long and forever withstanding.
You carry me in your wind
as Creator breathes our name.
I call to you, pleading for your time—
Your remind me how ever-present
we are in space without time;
without form.
I kneel to your wisdom
and lay my head upon your roots
and I remember.

Pseudotsuga menziesii

28 Mar

Today
I was held.
I was held by magnificent
beings. They reached out to me, wrapped
around me. I buried my face within their loving leaves.
I said goodbye to all the pain and sorrow they took from me. And as the
wind blew it all out from within them, they sighed in relief. They could no more
hold on to it all than I could. Instead they held on to me. Loving me
as they caressed my soft cheeks. Wrapped within their arms,
I am never alone. They understand me and care for me.
They are there to hold onto, as I fall through
their siblings slash piles.They are
there to hold me up, as
the wind beats
the rain in my
face. They
are there
to remind
me we
are all
sentient
beings,
and
we
all
count.
They
mend
me.
I guard
them.
It is Peace.

i carry you

26 Mar

I look through those eyes of yours and wonder where you came from.
I have begun to wonder: Do you carry me?
Because I am afraid I have been caught carrying a piece of you.
In fact, I have been sneaking around with it behind your back—loving you.

And I wonder what I am to do about it.

Gratitude

26 Mar

I love tender moments where nothing is expected—yet all is given.
Moments when you don’t know what’s going to happen—until it does.
This happening, happened to me—recently.
A sweet moment—when time seemed to stop.
Soon the moment was over—I miss it.

 

Frequency Holder

6 Mar

Divine light, I see in you.
That smile that creeps from your insides.
You’re patient, but weary.
You don’t understand the world and all its chaos.
It wreaks havoc with you, and you fight it—only to feel succumbed by it.
Understand, that this is normal.
You are not meant to understand it.
It’s meant to swirl around you—never touching.
Just stay as you are.
Remain calm and peaceful.
That is your purpose here.
You are a reminder to those who wish they didn’t see you.
You think you go unnoticed.
I sneak you a smile sometimes when you think no one is looking.
I think you are sweet and lovely—you think you are boring and usual.
Divinity comes in many shapes and light.
You are a ray.
I wonder how far you reach.
I bet it reaches far from both of us—no way to know.
I guess it doesn’t matter.
It goes where it’s supposed to go.
Sometimes to me.

Frances Marie

3 Mar

The day before she died, it took her over two hours to do the dishes. She was always like that— dishes had to be washed. She pulled up a chair close to the kitchen sink where she rested between bowls and forks. In my ignorance I chastised her for her lack of laziness—snapping loudly that I wished she would just go sit and relax.

We found her cold cup of tea on the table next to her favorite chair. It was only half empty. It sat there a long time. My mother finally drank it. It sat empty on the counter—no one wanting it to be washed. It held her there. Her lipstick—a reminder of her sweet kisses. We will never know those again, I thought. I felt cheated that my mother had taken my grandmother’s last sip.

I will never forget the day before she died. I dressed her one last time. A fancy sweater with matching slacks. “I suppose you’ll just give all my clothes away, once I’m gone.” “Probably,” I answered coldly. She had talked of death for too many years. I was hard to it—yet she was telling me.

I made her lunch—canned soup. I had fulfilled my duty. I ran out the door with barely a thought—I was late. I realized I had not hugged her as I walked to the already running car. No time I thought. Tomorrow.

She read her a story over the phone: “Three Little pigs.” It was late and neither one could sleep. It would be the last story she read to her. The next phone call would be the news. “She’s gone, honey. Mama’s gone.”

I sat there for a long time. Three hours away from the place she left her body. It would take me a long time to get there, I thought. Traffic. I will miss the moment where the dead are said to “hang around.”

She looked like she was sleeping. Then again, maybe she tried to get up—but I think she died instead. She wasn’t there, she wasn’t hanging around. In the kitchen, the chair was still next to the sink. Dishes in the drying rack. I sat down in the chair, quiet—and washed her cup.

Old Soul

3 Mar

You snuck up on me—but now you are everywhere.

You clung to me—without me noticing.
Now I can’t get you out of my mind.

Your eyes have gone somewhere else
to someone more quiet—someone distant from me.

Now I sit quietly wondering—did I miss something?
You were a flash before me—beautiful and old.

I miss you already—and don’t even know you

Wait

3 Mar

Your whiskers are all that is left from a day so final
Spread out on the bathroom counter.

I forgot to notice how you surround me.
Little pieces of you—dirty socks in the hallway.

Dishes from the day before lie in wait—unknowing.
They must wait a long time.

Time sits with me—I have nothing but more of it.
I will be waiting a long time too—for the thought of you to pass.