#Soar #writephoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Soar

I dreamt of the voice shuttered

tight against the storm. Words

held behind the clouded window, urgent

We are here!

Blue feathers lined in black resting

in sunlit trees. Impossibly large

No, they cannot be mine

I doubted the impossible

stroking the membrane of the quill

so many gathered stories filling

the space beneath, calling

through the echo of time

wondering why the throat

is like a storm cloud waiting to break

open to the sun. Wondering why

space needs to be confined and the bird

of truth lies in wait

for permission to soar

 

Once again, I had a feeling that Sue’s photo would echo my dreams. For Sue’s #writephoto writing prompt,#Soar.

Imagining A World Made New #poetry

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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 

 

The Global Heart #poetry

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

I cannot help thinking of the heart

and life’s breath held in separation

A viral wrap, searching for community

opening the return of the forgotten

goddess. She peers green eyes of the forest

through locks of fire. An earthen trunk

rooted to the life lines. Horns tuned

to the stars, bridging the divide

How everyone is feeling

the broken as fear’s seize spreads dis-

ease. Time, collapsing and morphing

twisting minutes too surreal to be real

Too real to be false. Lies breaking the voice

gasping for air through constricted lungs

while she breathes her return, softly beckoning

from the shadows. Can you see me now?

she asks. The key is held in your heart

and all

The Memories of Stone #writephoto #memory

memory
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Some say the giants are still here

Their memories held inside the stones

They watch the movement of time

and grimace at our indifference

Some weep for lack of care

Borrowing water from the sky

Our eyes see inert bodies

ravaged by weather and not

the chiseling hand. Yet the eye watches

waiting for the few who wish to spiral inward to stir

memories beyond dimension. The giants seek

the seekers and wait. Feeling the press of footsteps

blindly walking. The push of restless bodies

Listening to “Hurry up.” “Let’s move on”…

to the next best thing. Whatever that is.

They watch. Eyes following too slowly to be caught

Lids, never blinking. Legs tucked into the land

who knows their breath. Their hearts,

held in Her hands pulse the music of the land

She, who never forgets her children

moves love through tired veins to spiral the waiting eye

Forever looking for the one who will stop

and remember.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, #memory 

#Still #writephoto

spring
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Still

The body, subject to the mind,

reaches for more, grabbing at an illusion

never realized. It seeks to be sustained by want

collecting treasures to adorn it.

False garments of the self dim the light inside.

The body, subject to the heart,

becomes a vessel of love.

Its hands, stilled from grasping,

hold only peace, and its face

reflects the light of the sun

free to move through its skin

igniting the world around it

like a beacon of hope

 

For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt, #still

 

#Daybreak #writephoto

daybreak
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Peace arrives upon the horizon of stillness

and the slow letting go fades into the night

We are creatures of the moon and the sun

howling through the winds and the rain

lashing at fears often unfound

we seek the light as though it were

illusive. Stretching our filaments in surrender

the body breaks open to become the sky

The mind, woven in wonder gives way

to the passage. And the voice, that howling

gnashing voice screeching to be heard

becomes the wind. And you

and I, we become the one

crimson wrapping gold

and everything in between

our ocean of light softly surging

and collapsing into the fold

we rock to the music of stars

and find that we were never

forgotten

 

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #Daybreak

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

 

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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.

Romany #dreams #poetry

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Self portrait dated 11/1/78. Age 5

Romany

I went to Romany in a dream to banish ghosts

“Don’t you remember,” It told my mother

“We’ve been here before.” She thought

the road pointed one way. I, the other

Time erased memory and blurred definition

as a great bear loomed

in a land turned dark and filled

with ghosts. Confusion sought the beauty

of colors vividly defined

it ran through nightmare

slipping to escape fear, until I climbed

the beloved stones above darkness

and felt the joy of the gypsy

girl return