To tumble out of the unfolding draw in a breath
Remember who you are
Remember the child who knew how to dance with light
Your doorway to truth
Like Alice peering into the Looking Glass without fear
Grab ahold of wonder
Dive into the ripening
You the vine, but also the seed
Arising from the place of beginnings
Everything already coded
waiting to break open
To reach beyond the ground
draw down light and spread the tender vine
Rejoining the spiral dance
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
Frozen
In the midst of a world that appears frozen
follow the purple path within
Know that beyond the shadows holding darkness
there is always a source of light
reflecting truth. Waiting to melt the way
as it softens the heart that would stay cold
Indifference is the face of fear grown tired
Used to the battered landscape, the eyes refuse to see
the false hold. And so we remain frozen together
in stasis, an inert body wanting to be held
until the fever burns once again
into love
For Sue Vincent’s weekly #WritePhoto prompt. Click here to participate.
Gardens of Roses
My grandmother visits me in the garden
as I cut dead limbs from the azalea
I can smell her soap and perfume
The love I once longed for
opens the pores on my arms
She knows there are roses
newly planted. The dirt turned over brown
wraps their roots in memoriam. In the hidden
chambers of my ears I hear her voice
calling “Leethie” and we smile
together through time
Despair
Last night I watched a ship disappear
one life, followed by another, until the last
was swallowed by water lidded with ice
nothing left behind but despair
They say pay attention to colors
in dreams, the screen before me looming
in shades of gray and white while I stood
a part of the spectrum of rainbow light with my son
in the shadows. This lesson on despair
sinking before us and I feeling only
hope
Baba Ghanoush
I barely slept, although sleep gave me dreams as proof
before I crept downstairs and slipped
into the haze of slow time. Sometimes the body’s rush is ceased
by the unseen hand. Acceptance the only release. Late
yesterday, the deer returned in a pair to eat fallen apples
but the dog ran through my distraction of the cat
who watched without movement. Stilled in time
Before breakfast, I opened the door to pull weeds
thinking of how fast they grow and take over
space. When I ate late, the waffle was cold
and I left the table feeling undefined
noting the softened eggplants on the counter
One the color of the hidden eye
the other mottled by the crown. I brought the pair outside
turned the grill’s surface into a flame, and roasted
their skins black, peeling after the insides liquified
thinking of caterpillars and butterflies, I pulsed
their remains with tahini, smashed cloves of garlic,
the juice of half a lemon, and pink salt from a faraway sea
until the house smelled of baba ghanoush and my thoughts
turned once again to night and shade and whether you can have
too much darkness, and how the sun in excess
blinds the eyes to sight
You travel swiftly in this river
called life. Rushing over rocks
pulling your weight around sharp
corners, creating the froth
of exertion. Yet
your span is infinite
in stillness and
when the flow becomes
a harmony to the rhythm
within. One vast body
boundless. A life without
edges, blending all matter
soothes the sides of resistance
with the awakened pulse
it is both the bridge
and the current
For Sue Vincent’s weekly #WritePhoto prompt #Span.
The Light Behind the Story 