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.
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.
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.
I slipped into the water to find my soul
mirrored in the well of my belly
So this is where the scryers went, I thought,
to the stones heaved out of the body
of the Mother. Hands chiseling the hollow
to her womb. I could see time
collapsing inside of me. My eyes peering
to find the umbilicus, weaving the thread
that joins the memory of rocks to bone
My mouth tasted the salt of blood
Her water, also mine
and I knew home through the risen
mound. The pull of life forever
rocking the beat of her heart
and the self, never lost
bathed in love
Strength reigns through the barren land
of naked limbs exposed to time
Without adornment horns lift the true
self and eyes peer through darkness
to find life in stillness. What would be frozen
softly beats the heart’s calling
stirring the fire inside that never dies
it waits with patience for the touch
of green renewal to shake the cold
world back to life
For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto challenge. Interestingly, as I sat down to write about her photo, I glanced over at my teacup and noticed I had also chosen a stag/ reindeer for the morning.
The Copper Doorway
If you think death waits
for you at the end
of the long road
oh weary traveler, turn
back into the tunnel of darkness
to sweep the membrane clean
In the black space hear the symphony
of life surrounding you and the Mother’s
breath singing the leaves
back into her body
For Sue Vincent’s weekly #writephoto prompt. To participate, click here.
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.
While sitting on the porch this afternoon, I had a visit from the resident hummingbird and found myself pulled into the stillness of the present to bear witness to life. While it is all too easy to try to take over life in our hurry to live it, sometimes it is worthwhile to allow it to take over us. If even for just a few moments.
Sometimes it is enough
to watch the circle of life
and listen to the rise and fall of its notes
How the sky screams the hawk’s warning
before a spirit lifts from the body of a chipmunk
to rejoin the infinite expanse
Hidden in the green, the house cat
skulks as though it were in Africa
The dimensions of size and place lost
to the memories of cells
In the stillness of the moment
tense is erased by the rhythm
of the breath’s own steady rise and fall
inviting the heart to find
the harmony of the dance
Beautiful things happen when you enter
the space of infinite becoming
where each aspect of the self unfurls
its petals to the stillness contained within
in soft waves of light
you are birthed
whole to all that you are
and discover essence is not confined
to a body
love drips
like water through the pores of skin
dissolving this sheath that would be armor
do not allow yourself to be held
too long in the coat
beauty is a timeless seed
requiring darkness
to germinate
a hidden code revealed only
when the self lets go of all
that it thought was real
and becomes Life
itself
Four directions
mark the way of the living feet
Points on a compass
as old as the cross that divides
and joins them
our marker of death
We remember Jesus
as a son of God
splayed in four directions
for all to see and worship
a martyr to our sins
We place the symbol on our graves
and walk over what is buried
soon forgetting the features of skin
covering bones as if it were the structure
that matters most
Yet the cross also marks the way
inward. Two lines bisected
into four join at the heart center
We look at the agony of pain etched on the face
blood dripping from nailed hands and feet
stopping that movement we call life
forgetting that the center
returns us all home
For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt #Decisions.
The Light Behind the Story 