Mother

  
Mother I

was born in silence

gifted pura vida privilege

granted rhythm in breath

equal parts fragility, wonder,

and free will

I was born to contemplation

on a dark night in winter

Born with faith and with patience

to trust the inspiration of spring

To the sound of ripple waters

forever flowing

To the sight of mystic mountains

rising from your depthless core

In the shade of the willow

I lie still in blue-eyed grasses

while the grace of the mischief moon

renews again and again

my unwavering allegiance

my fiercely peaceful protection

my quiet whispered defence of

my forever love

for you.

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Arrivals

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A book arrives when you invite it

some part of you within

awake while you lay still deep sleep dreaming

 

A voice calls out in whisper or shouts

some part that’s missing

maybe unknown or things you thought you already figured out

 

A wave from a small open hand raised from

some boat adrift in high waves

inviting a stranger wandering alone on the beach

 

An open mouth changing shape singing

some song you have yet to hear

whose melody awaits you to write it when your rhythm is more clear

 

A bark in the distance on a dark night of falling stars

some yellow dog howling at its own shadow

loneliness and euphoria converging in his throat

 

A book arrives when the windows are open

some butterfly or raging tiger

pausing there on your sill, equally prepared for sunrise or the end.

 

 

Feasts

  

He is right.

Again

When they return

from their journey

the flowers

so fresh so fragrant so vibrant

when she bought them

discounted

one day before they left—

Now he reminds her of

her folly.

There he says

Your flowers are withered

Your money wasted

Your flowers dead.

She stands next

to the table silent

Then takes all but one of her flowers away

Yes you are right, just this one remains

But better flowers

were present at all

Better with flowers around

even if only for a single

colourful fresh fragrant vibrant day

I will remember their presence well

for beauty lingers

and even when this last one fades

beauty taken in never goes away.

Visitor

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I stopped by your little house

this morning just before ten

the only sound the low whisper of

red dirt rising in the hot red sun

I guess everything gets thirsty

when there’s nowhere but home to run

I left a note in the door crack

I hope it don’t blow away

I hope you come back real soon

The kids will need reassuring

The fields still need turning

and Vera’s waiting at the river

for you.

Key

 You can’t just wallow here

give up to the flies those supplies

you packed for the voyage you knew would be long and uncomfortable, maybe rough on your equipment

You can’t just surrender

forget your reasons for this quest

You can’t just rinse away

all you’ve strived to build here

You can’t just pretend

you no longer care and nothing matters

You can’t just stop now

wait for time and soft winds to carry you away

You can’t just remove your identity

by removing all of your clothes

You can’t just eliminate who you are

or despise who you think you can never be

You can’t just light a bonfire

to destroy what’s past and all trace of you in it

You can’t just vaporize

I see you and your presence is here and now

You can’t just dig a hole

climb in and will your life expired

You can’t just say you’re lost

because the key temporarily eludes you

You can’t just claim you’re paralyzed

and fear won’t let you move

You can’t just declare you’re no longer curious

about possibilities awaiting you up ahead

You can’t just say you can’t feel me here

my hand light upon your shoulder

You can’t just say you won’t take my magic stick

and raise yourself up unsteadily

to walk beside me

again.