There is a calling I kindled in the dark house;not a place I visit but my first home.In that seed space, a yearning arose.It cried out in a voice I recognized but could not yet know,with a language older than our human throats.I hear it even now echoingin the murmur of water over stoneand the … Continue reading Wound Wood
Category: Poetry
Visiting
She gave me a gift, as I sat beside heron the cold stone, damp seeping into jeansand woodsmoke into everything,eyelashes wet with praise,with the gladnessof her warmth and the echoof her hammer andthe sweet upwelling of her watersin a parched heart, she said,"It does not have to be bright to be brilliant." She spoke with … Continue reading Visiting
Vessel
I thought I had to be hollow, a space for all this vast beauty,as I made of myself a healer for all who would find rest.I did not know my own belly rumbled. I did not know my steps were kenningsnor my heartbeats a calling. I did not know that the only choice not given … Continue reading Vessel
Our Mother Is Dying
Today I am gratefulfor the ways that I am broken.Cracked open,with rough edgesthat soften to the world, invitingthrough voluptuous sensitivitythis upwelling of celebrationthat is griefas the pain of our being sings through me,and I know that I belong.That I can be longing,a cry in this darkthat draws us to ourselves, cohering,clotting, clothing ourselvesin love and … Continue reading Our Mother Is Dying
Reverie
Love, I think, asks at least as many questions as it answers and one of them is "what do you bring alive in me?" which is really asking "what do I bring alive (allow to come into being) in myself in response to you in my world?" A mouthful of language to swallow, choking as … Continue reading Reverie
To the Cross Above the Door
Your golden tassels rustle softlyas I lift you from your place,a gentle sigh as at the end of a busy dayfull of rushing and strangeness. It is time again to lay you down on that soft shrine,the dust and ash of many offeringswiped away with water that stirs heart and bodywith the quickening scent of … Continue reading To the Cross Above the Door
Be welcome.
Grace is a place I've come to inhabitat the edges of my own ruinous heartwhere life flourishes, as it does in every bramble,these joins between the worldswhere the fruit is tart and the thorns feel sweet.When the long night, sharp against my throat,steals my breathand I do not know how to forgive myself for being,it … Continue reading Be welcome.
A Prayer to All the Mes I’ve Killed
If I call your name Beloved, would you know it is you to whom I speak? You are the sacrifices of my survival; we chose, each of us in our turn, to make that bargain.Oh, Beloveds, hear my prayer as the beating of your own hearts, I entreat you! I reach for you in voice … Continue reading A Prayer to All the Mes I’ve Killed
Thirsting Spirits
I said once that the only protection she could give me was a sharp and shattered heart. Did it break hers when she broke mine?or was it a relief when my own jagged pieces drove her further away,when there was no longer the demand to hold,to care,to comfort.To mirror the mirror that she shattered. Perhaps … Continue reading Thirsting Spirits
Maw-mouth
Skin full of shadows, hauntedby what belies the mythat the center of the story,a distance not grantedexcept in the illusion of authorship.I can protest my innocence,claim, truthfully perhaps,that I am not the one who carved these wordsinto the stone foundation of a lifemade hungry by all the needsI could not meet.Still, it was my invitationcalling … Continue reading Maw-mouth
Rooted Flame and a Deep Wellspring 