Lavender Dream #Dream #Writephoto #poetry

dream
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Once again Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt photo has mirrored my dreams. It’s been a challenging two weeks. My computer died, again, and the resuscitation of  it was more laborious and disruptive than I had hoped it would be. Breathing into the letting go, what may be lost, what may take monumental efforts to fully restore, has been a call to open the heart. 

Lavender Dream

I dreamt of the self starved

my body yielding to others, breathing

out instead of in. I will be there

for you, she knows the whisper as rote

memory so deep the threads bind her own

love. You can see it in her narrowed hips

breasts, almost pre-pubescent. As though

the body learned before it could fully grow

to turn inward upon itself. Preservation

in the outer yielding. I will be there for you

too, her voice echoes outside its walls

He brought the amethyst cracked open. Primal

rocks forged by the Mother’s fire

bumpy and dulled gray on the outside

Broken by will. He placed them around my neck

A lei of love. Her lavender heart

revealed itself in a field of green

 Love

returned

to love

 

Imagining A World Made New #poetry

IMG-1047

I’m trying to imagine a world made new

A riptide of dis(ease) softening into rebirth as seven

billion people grow golden filaments

around the darkness of our womb. At night

I claw dirt back into Her body

to know the heartbeat wrapped inside the winged

Release the tired shoulders, She whispers, you

who have learned to wear blades

 seeking to stretch beyond the chrysalis

To Breathe Whole

Arms, ready to release

the heavy weight of fight, trap

 the body collecting pain without permission

You wounded warriors of the light

stamp identity across the heart

pressing the false hold into a battle cry

lodged inside the forgotten throat

Open

the portal to the heart and allow the soul

to shout victory

Darkness is a demon

only if left unexplored. Let the cry loose

Let it soar through the shadowland inside

until it ignites the joy

that is life. Real life

Release those golden threads and weave

the memory

of unity

whole

#Together #writephoto

sun-on-the-sea
Photo  Credit: Sue Vincent

Together

At the edge of land the sand releases

back to the sea to be reborn

Oh to be one tiny grain tumbling into endless re-

union, pulled effortlessly back into the tide

waiting to let go. To feel a full surrender

to trust knowing unity awaits

after the pure ecstatic rush of release

Oh to be birthed, over and over

by love as day melts into night

 

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #together 

 

#Torrent #Writephoto #poetry

torrent
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

The water cleaves the heart of the forest

opening the wound. Forcing its way to freedom

it pours the mud of civilization into her gaping chest

 beating a rhythm  faster than nature

We have forgotten how to move

with her river. How to beat the heart in time

with the flow and not race

speed. We, hasty creatures of greed defined as progress

lament the loss of the free soul. It cries through the open wound

A torrent of tears falling on deafened ears.  Angry men,

too white to remember the goddess inside

stand at the point of the sun and shout anger. Feeble

hands grasping power that was never theirs to hold

while she waits in the shadows, her breast

splaying wide their wound, dripping pain

The drain of life force unstopped

becomes the torrent of fear

and we, its helpless child

grasping to hold

love

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, #torrent

The Seal of Circe #Offering #writephoto

offering.jpg
Artist Credit: Sue Vincent

 

The Seal of Circe 

She wove the rainbow through the threads of being

offering life in her hand

“Drink”

It felt like the moon

moving through the shadowed land

filaments of light filling the long

forgotten pathways. She sang of magic

her voice dancing through my night

eyes opening wide

the blue columns, catching the fire

of Horus to lift the roots that bind

She, the water to his fire

He, the sun to her moon

and I, the child born of their union

A seal stamped upon a dream

Or was it something more

this urgent memory of magic

lingering after she returned

to night. My feet still dancing

her song, slightly unsure

unaccustomed to a tune

 called freedom and also joy

older than time

leading me home

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt challenge “Offering.” 

writephoto

 

“First Woman”: A Solstice Dream

 

villa-de-leyva-4534119_1920
Photo Credit: Pixabay

First Woman

You may call her Eve

but I knew her as Melissa

The first woman born of her clay

write her story, they whispered

and so I do, following the trace

of her line. The curve of the body

born supine to face the sun

my eyes, watching the slow unwrap

of the goddess. A womb like a hive

my mind, pulled toward the drones

anxious in the hurry to follow a crowd

to nowhere. I turn back

relearning the slow unfolding

of woman. The mother skin lifting

its mold. I watch her smooth the lines

so slowly I am pained by the thought

that we will be left behind. But she

cares not of the train rushing

to the forgetting land. Her fingers

the mystery I need to remember

how carefully she births self

without division and smooths the folds

until lines become curves

until there is no beginning

and no ending

she just is.