solstice notes

How we honor the sun

We make a fire to burn what is no longer needed
We eat berries fed by the sun
Their sweetness is full of the energy of her light
We provide water to what we’ve planted
Which they drink up gradually

She runs through droplets
Falling joyfully into green grass
And marches barefooted through thickets
And under trees

We surrender to the water
Let it wash over skin
Sink in

And then
Light the fire.

snippets in process

I have never been more aware of my body
Of how I feel in it and who I am in it
And how it makes me what I am
And is so lovely and so capable even in its imperfection
I am more connected to it than ever before
For the good and the bad and the salty
And the sweet
And those times I want to cry but cant
And think of those whose bodies betrayed them
And how we can bathe one another in love
And intention and healing and light
And maybe things will turn out the way we thought they would
And maybe they will turn out so much better than that
But maybe a friend will still die, even though his wife is bringing his son into the world
Maybe she will still leave
And things will break and crack and decay
But from that detritus will rise something else
And we will love each other for as long as humanly [possible
And the earth will love us for long after that.

poetry in process

Bones on the brain

The whole house is sleeping
I am sleepy too
but sleep felt like a waste of precious time
so I am here
Glassey eyed,
sketching skulls.

We cut through bones
Yesterday evening in the dark
On the front porch.
He held the pruners
And I held the baby
While her and I
Watched his strength
Cut through

Now I have bones on the brain.

I think both
of their strength
and fragility

Remembering how easily
my own have broken

The other day a woman showed me how
The inside of a human skull
Has a pattern on it that looks just like
A leaf pressed into silver

In the crisp air and quiet
Of an empty room in the early morning
It seems quite natural,
That each should be
inside the other.