“winter’s wait” acrylic on canvas 9 x 12
Secret Language
Within me lives a story,
a heroine’s journey into the
deep mystery.
It tugs,
inviting me inward
where everything knows my name.
My creaking bones
whisper the secret language
to my ancient ears.
My skin, at the touch of wind
waltzing through my hair,
awakens sable black words
printed on the ghost of my flesh,
ink from letters once penned
by the divine hand
returns to the blood of my veins.
I can feel the story
writing itself
into my heart beat.
My breath, painting landscapes
with every sigh.
Within me lives a story,
and perhaps one day
I will meet another
whose soul remembers the same
secret language as mine.
“the soul’s hunger”
(acrylic on canvas)
There are things I yearn to write poems for
and offer my words as
a gift of gratitude.
If only I could find the right words
to express how these things send
quakes of joy and pain
rippling through the fault lines of my bones.
There are things in this world
so beautiful
my heart falls in love and breaks
endlessly
at the slightest encounter.
Looking into an infant’s eyes,
the last leaf of autumn dancing to the ground,
music from a piano,
sun-warmed mud between my toes,
a bird’s last breath…
Things so beautiful
my cells sing together
hoping, praying
that the vibration of their voices united
will dissolve them into the beauty
of which they sing.
To witness all the expressions
of the divine fills me
with the deepest, insatiable hunger,
and I wonder if this is how
my friends the moths must feel
as they approach a flame,
with passion so big
they risk it all to be the beauty
for just one infinite instant.
Acrylic on canvas, 95% painted with my fingers. Finger painting is so much better than painting with brushes I discovered! Also, it glows in the dark…
Breath
Rest, child,
young apprentice of the universe,
your insatiable quest for answers
is noble and naïve
lay down your burden,
all the weight of knowledge and opinion
dragging wearily upon your fragile frame,
fold away those well worn maps and spinning compasses,
and lean upon my celestial shoulder.
Breath, child,
at the pause before the inhale
I am there
waiting to hold you in my silent arms of winter
before the joyful bursting buds of spring.
At the pause preceding exhalation,
I am there
ready to catch your momentum of summer
just before the first golden leaf journeys
to meet the sweet ground.
Listen, child,
for the silence between
between
between
between these words
each beat of your loyal heart,
each drop of rain or song of bird,
each moment of being.
The silence between.
Each moment is at once
a symphony of all life
and the absolute emptiness of the Void.
I am here,
here for you,
because I am you,
and you are me,
and we are One.
And in a world of chaos and never ending questing,
just rest
the answer is you
it is simple,
it is breath.
