in progress: the only language that matters

Orange peels

A wise woman tells me,
make space, new ideas will come

and so I try to identify
what I no longer need.

When the world is burning,
not somewhere else but here

and collectively we know that it will be a while
before this dark is over,

still, it is only a small shattering
and maybe the specific path does not matter

maybe orange peels in a pile in the sink
don’t have to mean anything

and maybe when it feels like we are
living in a circular world

with no doors
or answers,

when there is so much fire
everywhere

inside
and out

when forward motion
feels better –

we keep moving
as if action is the only language that matters

maybe the hardest part
is always allowing things to die.

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in process: speaking up, and teaching our daughters to do the same

Speak up

This is the thing I want to say:
when I was young
I never knew that there was
more than one path open to us,
that we could make the difficult choice
but I want you
to know it.

Sometimes I don’t know how to do
the thing that I have to do,
the thing that I have chosen.

Sometimes my
skin feels inside out
and my body like it is in 12
places at once.

Sometimes I try to tell someone
but I am behind glass.

No one can hear me.
No one can see my face
without a blur hiding its detail.

Lately I am a calm sea
quiet, with slow, constant motion
but no release.

The small waves
are lulling me into a trance
that will take me through
the long days of darkness
and winter and waiting

but this false calm
cannot last.

I am ready now
to show my
true face.

I am made of fire and earth
and they do not hide.

I look around and see
so many others still hiding

and I wonder why we keep
trying to exert ourselves
over things clearly
so much more
powerful than
we are.

In process – messages to myself

For weeks
I have been living
Inside a large ball of grief

Where pleasure and pain
And sleep and dreams
Seem to mix together
and its difficult to
tell top from bottom

And its many sources
Turn into one unintelligible beast

I have no words for it
Only a big dark hole in my insides
Full of dread and anger
And hopeless sadness
and so much fear
and I want someone to tell me
yes this is horrible
But it will get better
You will not always have this hole
It will fill with something better
Eventually

Just wait
Just slow down
Hold still
Let arms wrap around you
Let voices reach you
Just be still
And see if it feels any different
When you are quiet
If you can see another side
Or hear a bird calling
Brining you to another possible path
There are so many possibilities
Dear one
So many ways you cannot yet see

Maybe take a walk
Go up a hill and see how it looks from above
Change your vantage point
Breath the clean air
Speak to the trees, the ancient ones
With so much wisdom for us
Speak to them and then be still
And see if they speak back

Just try.
Even if it feels useless.
And when you don’t know who you can trust
And you doubt your own insides
Trust the trees and the ferns and the mushrooms
And all those ancient growing things
That belong to the earth
She is our mother and will not steer you wrong.

rise to the surface – in process

I woke this morning
Filled with dreams,
With want

But the want frightens me
As I am unable to untangle it
From discontent
And heartache

But when I am quiet
And honest
My dreams rise to the surface
Like a sea turtle in mama ocean
Raising his head out ever so gently
Through the surface of the water
For a bit of air.

When I look them in the eye
I see they are not a thing
To be afraid of.