And Away They Go

And Away They Go
Sent into the world
Eyelashes of dandelions
Scattered in the wind

Firsts All Around
Jr. High

First day of school.
Marley had his first day in Jr. High. How old am I?
Brodie is in 6th and will have his first day of Jr. High math tomorrow.
Cale is in 3rd and on the top floor of our school with the “big” kids.
And Perry, my baby, started kindergarten.
Just half day, so, I still have a year of just him and me.

I sent them off and watched them go. It’s all I can do. I hope the love I have given them is spread to other hearts that they touch.



An excavation is occurring
Right here, right now.
Digging up and exposing
Parts hidden down deep.
Massive machinery taking
The top layer hastily away,
Leaving the fragile fragments
Incrusted in the earth.
Artifacts of the past
Once seen by my eyes.  Also
Treasures restricted to canyons,
Caverns created underground
Where I have never traversed.
Dark, shaded spots I never
Stepped, nor knew existed.
Only now discovering their presence.
Beginning at the surface,
I chip away at the ancient
Heirlooms of my past,
Recognizing them lovingly.
Peacefully reunited once again
And pausing to reflect on:

The site before me.
The work I have done.
The work yet to come.

Venturing into the unknown.
Brushing around the borders
Of this found cave.  Careful
Not to damage the walls
Where the delicate and durable
Concealed crystals line the
Ceiling filled with stalactites and stalagmites.
Glittering as each grain
Of entombed soil is sifted
Through the sieve to collect
All the jewels this dig uncovers.
The process is painstaking,
Tedious and tormenting at times.
But I know if I delve
Too abruptly, a landslide
Will inundate all the work done.

Hidden Caverns

I’m working hard, internally, this summer. An awakening that began late winter, is in full bloom with the summer sun. It’s been a slow process and one I don’t choose to rush, even if I could. The work of the Spirit can not be pulled along. I have to be led.

It’s going to sound crazy (and maybe I am…). I almost don’t believe it myself, but when I cut my hair something happened. Something in me changed. I found Trevor Hall’s beautiful soul and music and my world was cracked open. The start of the excavation. I sought out my old writing… another layer scraped away. Falling into my poetic soul, I was led down a path I never even knew was there.

Autumn, upon us now, it is a time to harvest. I want so desperately for my fruit to be ready to gather. I wish I was further along this road than I actually am. I can’t get enough podcasts on spirituality, books on poetry, picking up my art supplies and letting my head go. Letting my heart be in charge. But I’m still not where I want to be.

And then I hear,
… so it is.

I have extended grace to myself. I remind myself that steam rolling forward simply to get forward, smashes everything along the way. All the lessons learned from the stumbles absent, the beauty of the flowers are pushed into the dirt, and the surprises disappear in the speed of the machine forever pushing along. I don’t want to miss all of that. I have the feeling even if I tried that method, I would only have to back up and start again, prolonging the journey further.

I have also discovered the understanding that my path is set. It doesn’t really matter what I “do”, things are meant to happen. The poem of my life has already been written. I used to think that the philosophers in the school of determinism, were so off key. How could we not have free will to make our destiny?  The thought of not controlling things was terrifying. Then Perry came into my life. His greatest gift to me was learning to release control. I know my Spirit has the map drawn. And I have seen some of it. It’s beautiful. What I am uncovering and excavating is beyond my wildest dreams.


Around the Bend

Around the Bend
Into the wooded wild
Out of the open meadow
Under the reaching arms
Of the mossy emerald
Giants guarding the crown

Up I climb over rock
And root, dusty earth
Beneath my brisk sneakers
Leaving only my footprints
As proof I had been there

In the shade of the looming limbs,
The lifeless ones lean
Low to the ground looking
Like a large bees’ lair
For the regal queen’s dwelling

Smoke settling in the valley
Showing the ridges of the bluffs
In blues of royal shades
Standing out against the wispy
White of the foggy breath below

The wind whips up, stirring
A shiver to my skin
Goose-bumped and trembling
Even while the heart is racing
With the hard hurried effort

Chilled and frigid as I turn
The trail’s twisty bend to
The warmth of sun and love rushing
Forth in my face and permeating
Heat and fervor to my core

Trail Dirt


Prayer for the Destitute

Prayer for the Destitute
I take you in my heart
I bear your weight
The weight of your suffering
Pulling it in closer
Welcoming it from the inside
Dusting off the dirt
Erasing all the errors
Dressing all your wounds
Mending all your frayed edges
Your threadbare soul
So fragile and frail
Needs only some sustenance
Of love and acceptance
For who you are

Bolstering Body and Spirit



Fly out, go
You must
No doubts should sit
View the world
From your bird’s eye

Land to see
What could be
No doubts should sit
On your wings
Of my hopes

Gather the seed
All along
No doubts should sit
For what may be
Or what could have been

Freedom is yours
Take it
No doubts should sit
As you wander
In your search

I’ll be right here
No worries and
No doubts should sit
I have peace
In your flight

You will see
A new world
No doubts should sit
Behind your eyes
So warm and soft

If your voyage
Returns you here
No doubts should sit
In my arms
Open to you

Letting Go

“To love something is to let it go.  If it returns to you, it’s yours to keep.  If it doesn’t, it never was.”

I was a quote collector. I expect most poets are to some extent. When words are so meaningful to you it’s inevitable that you collect them in poems or songs or quotes.

This was my favorite quote. I tried so hard to live by it. Love as my creed, it just felt right. But it was a hard concept to really embrace. Losing someone you love is so incredibly painful, whether in life or death, how can you just let them go?

But I had this written all over my journals. It was as if the more I wrote it, then maybe I would start to believe it.

I don’t think I ever did.

In going through my old writing and seeing this again and again, I had to take pause. I get it now. Maybe it’s getting in touch with my Spirit or maybe it’s age and maturity. I’m not certain when or where the change came from.  What I do know is that my heart understands this now.

My heart sings the phrase… “so it is” eternally.

so it is … joy at watching Perry develop
so it is … worry at whether Perry will be independent
so it is … anger over Cale’s behavior (misbehavior)
so it is … delight in Cale’s old soul
so it is … humor at Brodie’s comedy
so it is … annoyance at Brodie’s lack of culpability
so it is … irritation at Marley’s teen sass
so it is … pride in Marley’s good decision making

so it is … for everything

It is here, and then, it is gone. We can’t hold on to any of it. Especially people and times and emotions. The impermanence of our lives is forever. Trying to hold onto it is when suffering is even greater. Giving people, situations, emotions their wings, also frees us.

And if we never see it or them again, there’s no anger, no resentment, no harm. It is, as it was meant to be.

But if those people, those great experiences, do come back around to us, then we welcome them with great happiness and love, as this is, the way it was written.

Lift Up Your Voice

Lift Up Your Voice
You must sing, sweet song bird,
Sing your songs
Never hushing those hymns
Pouring from your heart
For all and for none, always
For me to sit and listen
From afar and away
From a stone’s throw beside
For as long as these attending ears
Can hear your tranquil trills

And you must fly
No bird lives, if not to fly
No cages for you
Spread your wings to feel
The breath of new life
You long to have on your own
Sail along the squalls
Enjoying each new ascent
Riding out the nose dives

And then carol it, sweet canary,
Chant or chirp, but serenade
With your sweet, sweet songs
I always long to hear
The ones I wait for in the wind
For just a whisper
Of your gentle melody
As it is carried along
From your heart to mine

Blue Bird