Proclamation

wonderwoman

Pick me swiftly

Lift me with the skill of your own unique art

I don’t care what Art it is

Only that you Own It

Draw me, paint me if you please

But first you have to reach me

And for god’s sake, dear man –

First you have to see me

I have no use for pedestal

I have no use for gutter

I may take on the role of Muse, but I won’t be your mother

Do not call me witch, or I’ll use my Witch on you

Leave me off your labels, and I might let you in my room

Honor What Lives Now in me, don’t make it such a fix-ed thing

I am ever-changing

I am Real

I want to be Felt

I am fleshed out and if you don’t know what I’m talking about

I think it’s best you go

I am so sick of your many projections

“She’s probably, like…”

Like what?

Like something you just made up?

What’s the matter little boy,

Couldn’t ask for directions?

Are you too afraid to Actually Know?

When we get through the requisite highs

The heat that meets in the beginning

Can you handle the requisite lows?

I want to know you have What It Takes

Do you have what it takes?

Do you have what it takes to make it through the wretched and hellish, the dark and demeaning?

To scorch your soles on the burning fire and find The Thing with meaning?

Do you?

Did you hesitate?

Then it might be too late for you

You’ve got to Know

Because I do

I’ve been through it all and back again

Intimate with Soul

As enemy and friend

I know exactly what it takes

To discover, to suffer, to die, to create

I will no longer entertain

The fearful, stuck or weak

The He who cannot honor love

The He who cannot reach

I am reserved for the man who can open his eyes

See me fully and stand in his power

Just as I stand

in mine

Not Bad

universepic

You are not bad

Why, my child, whoever told you that?

I think They must not have known what they said

Would you listen to me, instead?

You are not bad

You are not the reason for all the yuck of life

Life just comes with yuck

Wish that lesson would have stuck

“You are a child of the Universe…

No less than the trees or stars…”

And they too, are not bad or good —

They, my child, just are

You are allowed to Be

You are allowed to stumble through life

Deep in the mess of it

In fact, I encourage it

What other way is there

But to fight through

Reaching your worthy fingers into the rough ground to spread roots

And rise

Or burn for thousands of years and burst

Dying-Alive at the same time

You are made up of a million things

In this human being

But you are not wrong

And you are not bad

Could you, would you let go of those rigid notions?

“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.

I will meet you there.”

Perhaps we are meeting now

*Quote 1 from Desiderata 2 by Rumi

When Morning Comes

morning

When mourning comes

The slow and painful rise of awareness

Bright and shocking to our confused eyes

When the tears fall for the Unlived Life

And the thoughts come of What Could Have Been

The Should Have Been’s

The If Only’s

Do we deny, then, or accept?

When mourning comes and the tidal waves of deep regret

Stick to your cheeks, smearing them with agony and loneliness

And your heart screams, why can’t it be different?

I should have known

And you look stupidly at your own ignorance

Mad at something that makes no sense to be mad at

Oh but so, so mad

And sad

The piercing bitterness rises

When mourning comes

And morning always comes

Do we deny, then, or accept?

Can we forgive ourselves for the Not Knowing

Can we start to see through new eyes

Polished, clearer from our suffering

And see — truly see — that there is no other way for any of us

To live this journey

Except exactly as it is

Surrender

surrender

Oh sweet surrender!

I lie in the arms of my beloved

And breathe a sigh of relief

It is not up to me

It is not up to me

How tightly I held on!

And for so long

Grasping at straws

Greedy for answers

On my timeline

My ego screeched —

Begging, suffering, fighting

Struggling, striving

Needlessly

Needlessly!

Like fighting the wind

Or the stars

Demanding control of that which cannot be!

To think I actually wanted answers when I wanted them

How boring

How stale

How unimaginative

The juice of life lives in the Unknown

I was an ant believing I was an elephant

Now I am an ant and know I am an ant

Oh sweet, sweet surrender

I grasp nothing

Nor is there any need…

The Broken Thing

obiwan

He hides in books and bitterness

Protests against loving attempts

With an ever-present, I’m not ready for This

His hurt is the hand he uses to push Them away

Meanwhile, inside

He craves and craves

A meaningful Love he shoves swiftly away

Has empty encounters that offer brief pleasures

But those kind of pleasures just evaporate

Afterward, so painfully aware

Of exactly What and How Much is not there

He can’t bear demands or needs or wants

Lays it all on the table at once

This won’t be what you want it to be

Don’t think you’re special

Don’t fall for me

Reverse psychology, They think

Except – um, Oops – he says what He means

That’s the Broken Man speaking

He told me the very same thing

The difference is I listen

I know that road is his to go

Maybe he’ll defeat The Thing inside who speaks

On the other hand

Maybe he’ll just listen…

 

An Invitation

broken_wings_by_mendha-d4i4am8

Come to me with your broken pieces

I have a special kind of glue

I can only use it on one person

I have chosen you

Come to me with your broken wings

I’ve got an extra pair

Been saving them since 17

‘Case you ever came back here

Come to me with your bitter rage

There’s an elixir that I’ve mixed

Made from truth and bond and love

Free of traps and tricks

Come to me, if you will

I won’t ever force your hand

It’s merely an invitation, love

Never a command

I wait for you to realize what I have always known

I loved you then and now and always

Been forever yours, alone

I hang here in the balance

In the darkness of lost years

My palm is open, wondering

If you’ll master all your fears…

 

 

A Soul I Know

firstlove

Why bring things back around like this

It happens rarely

Scarcely

A billion different ways life goes

And you came back to me

My heart so full, no room for speech

In fact, I think I cried for you

Sitting there across from me

A soul I know

A soul I don’t

Simultaneously

I see your eyes reach for me while

Your hands keep me away

Could it be this serendipity’s

Just a torturous trick of fate?

They say love is all around us

But what good would that be

If you cannot untrap your soul

Let it reside with me?

I simply go on living

For what else is there to do

Store away my Depth of Feeling

It lived for only you

What Cruel Thing would bring us back together

But never let us manifest?

I won’t let myself believe it yet

Would be too much to bear

Would snatch the last shred of hope I have

And throw it in the fire

Gone Girl (aka “She Cray”)

woman-w-crazy-hair

Bustling, Running,

Scurrying about…

Where did your femininity go?

You toss it out the window with all the other

Unimportant things?

Like Being, Loving, Nurturing

Took hold of what matters most, eh?

Drive, Ambition

Goal-setting!

Going at such an Incredible Pace…

But you aren’t Accomplishing anything

No you aren’t Accomplishing anything

And isn’t that the point of your broken Mad-ness?

Your endless rushing?

To get to the Thing you seek?

Funny how you ain’t really gettin’ anything

Fretting, hand-wringing

Chasing your sarong in circles

Grasping nothing

That’s the kind of thing that happens

When a woman loses her sense of

Purpose

And I don’t mean goal-setting

But when she becomes identified with the Flurry of Doing

And doing

She does

But she grasps nothing

She is all splayed about

Like the papers on her desk

Or the packets that have essentials missing

Essentials missing!

Businesses can only run for so long like that

People ain’t no different

You find that out and then Spin Out

It’s an Indy 500 car crash

You try and take me with you again

But I am not driving in that race

Anymore

I tossed that Panic-Panic-Ungroundedness

Out my window…

With all the other

Unimportant things.

The Webweaver

webweaver

I am the Webweaver

the spider

I create my own destiny

But only

Always only

Because You flow through me

Sincere humility the only thing to birth true power

Do you feel it rise up in you

like I do in me

Oh my god

the high

so heady

But there now, soft

Bring it back down

stop the threading of soul for a breath

Lest we lose our connection to what gives us our breath

Oh then, it’s amped up again

let’s connect

you and me

Webweaver and demon seed

Ravish me

Ravish me

ravish me

And it will be holy