Tag: poetry

We Fall Apart to Become

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

The empty shell shimmers against the dry, rustling grass of August.

I crouch low to the earth.

I gather her brittle, translucent skin, gently.

This skin of days passed.

I admire the patterns of her scales,

the texture visible, tangible,

color now faded.

I hold her cast-away sheath in the palm of my hand.

I think how I am like her.

I am part snake.

I too have outgrown my skin.

I too have shed the old, many times–

for survival,

for cleansing,

for growth,

for truth.

The shedding is agony.

The shedding is ecstasy.

It is a death and a rebirth.

I hold her old skin–

this temporary art of moments lived,

this disintegrating map of who she was.

I watch it flutter into pieces and scatter in the wind, returning.

 

 

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

the wind carries your name to me
a suggestion
a question
a noticing
this poetic potential in the field between us
we have been before

my mind travels to another time
long before this state of collapse
outside of this era of fascism
a time when we bathed in the sea
climbed the bluffs
made love on the moss in the afternoon
braided each other’s hair
sang to the trees and to the waters and to each other
danced beneath expanse of night sky

the wind carries your name to me
a familiar sound
like the rush of hawk wings
an upward lift
a breath of release

my mind moves into the future
spelling moments into possibility
practicing manifestation
singing in the streets
our paths orbiting a lemniscate
extending
embracing
exchanging
rhythm and flow
bodies shimmering with summer heat
we find safety and belonging
only with each other
only in mutual aid
circles of reciprocity
in moments of shared breath
shared heart beats



Wondering

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

1.
i pray for past awareness
to guide me through this life with wisdom
and prevent the replication of harmful patterns
i pray for present awareness
to embody my aliveness
and keep me focused on my multipurpose
i pray for future awareness
to temper my appetites
and inspire me to dream

2.
i am a porous creature
love flowing, burning, pouring through me
air and fire and water
cleansed and holy by the salt and musk of my body
i am a reflective creature
wondering
perhaps it has never been about the holding
or being held
nor the having
of hands
or flowers
words
lips
letters
tender touches
heartbeats
or vocal tones
perhaps it has always been about the generative transmutations
the animations that exist
upon our leaving each other
sparks
exhales
seeds
spores
expressions of contentment
waves of pleasure
bursts of laughter
a deep thirst
an afterglow of warmth
an offspring
a poem
a dream
a novel not yet nameable entity

3.
and when my death arrives
i will simultaneously rise and descend and disperse
on a kaleidoscoping exhale
of sensation and light and sound and matter
becoming the endless stream of poetry
written into my soul
by all the arrivals and departures of my loves and my loving

*please note that if you are viewing this on a phone screen, the original line-breaks may be distorted, which may impact your reading experience. to view the writing as intended, use of a tablet or desktop computer is recommended.

living into uncertainty

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

standing at the window
i watch the landscape of autumn
where growth and decay coincide
i see through imaginary borders
where moonlight shines upon you
and i feel you near
the palm of your hand
still pressing upon my heart center
firm, warm, weighted
comfort amidst turmoil
i spread this love around
letting it seep deeply within
i rub it into the hearts and backs of beloveds
as we live into this uncertainty
this gaping chasm of fear and possibility
i transmit the warmth of my being, my gaze
to you, roaming love


Seven Prayers (revisited)

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

#1

May the experiences that deliver us
to the brink of breaking
be held as opportunities for evolution.

#2

May we, you and I,
come into awareness
of our powers
of intellect,
our every thought
and imagining–
may we know them as gifts, sacred.

#3

May we always seek each other,
find one another,
and see every arrival with clarity.

#4

May I be fluid
as the creek
pouring down the hill
making music out of every obstacle.

#5

May you shed the skin of your shame
as tears of praise for your persistence.
May you rise
from the shadowland fire-polished,
lion-hearted and lithe–
one hand raised to shield,
one hand open to give and to receive.

#6

May our words be medicine
for the journey
through desecration to resilience.

#7

May I liberate the wilderness
of my love
through an ancient and wordless song,
lulling tigers to sleep
and coaxing hearts to bloom.

(compiled and reposted from February – December 2018)

*if you are viewing this on a smartphone, line breaks may not be accurate and this will impact your reading experience as well as the conveyance of meaning*

the future is a burning question

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

drops of rose petal, honey, brandy,
and motherwort under my tongue
songs of liberation in my throat
sweet potato biscuits in my basket
dark-moon invitation to love
deeper in this season of grief and horror
you depart in eleven days
and the future is a burning question
yet we choose each other anyway
our bodies and hearts a-thrum
we share histories and dreams
shaping and sounding ourselves into synchrony
as if this is all we get
this luscious
collection of moments outside of time
I see myself in your future, and you in mine
a revelation kept in the dark folds of my heartscape
precious rare seed of longing
I soak in the afterglow of our dance
as traces of you pulse and echo through my being
rearranging me
awakening me into new imagining, new becoming
I am astounded at every opportunity to love in these dark times

*if you are viewing this on a smartphone, line breaks may not be accurate and this will impact your reading experience as well as the conveyance of meaning*

I lost you

On By Anemone1 Comment

I lost you at the crossroads, love.
You chose a path I could not follow.
Outside of our embrace now,
adrift in the in-between,
I have been forsaken.
I tread holy waters, awash in my tears.
I will not forsake me.
I will be by my side.
I will grieve,
and I will love others.
When we meet again,
it will be at the foot of the mountain.
I will bring you quince fruit.
You will bring me chocolate.
We will share stories,
explore the shapes of our hearts and minds,
recall the depths of our passion,
and we will hold each other
under the light of a full harvest moon.

The words she speaks

On By AnemoneLeave a comment

they reach a place in your heart
deep and timeless
where your laughter bursts into tears
where you ache and wonder and dream
the words she speaks
they make you want to shed layers
of artificial skin
assigned to you at birth
and every year since
by dominant culture
the words she speaks are poetic
they entice you to move from your belly center
to writhe and rise in a new dance
gleaming and transcendent
colors vividly reflecting those woven
by your ancestors in cold winters
the patterns of those worn on the earth by their feet
as they migrated north and west and further west
until they reached volcanic lands
edged by the Pacific
veined in rivers
colonized by white peoples
her poetry makes you want
to remember what has been buried inside
forgotten through generations of assimilation
her poetry makes you want
to reclaim the lost ways
of your great great great great grandmothers
her poetry makes you want
to return what has been stolen