perfect post

Tell me this, what is life without love?

Life of love with few,

will never grow

 life of love with everyone
 can go on forever

Mama said the most important thing in life

Is to love

"Cant you see how every hair on your head, every inch of you is so deeply loved?" she said.

It is hard to comprehend this emotion.

To dive into this infinite, clear as rain concept.

I must love others as my children, as my parents, as myself.

These ideas are soft and leave me silent.

A gentle softness to the bone.

What is life without beauty and death?

I am reminded

It is okay that I will die,

because somewhere I will continue to live.

I will become rocks and berries

Water will flow from me

And I will be part of the ocean

Carbon released will enter the atmosphere

As it does with each exhale

Parts of me will vibrate with peace and love

and that is where I will be found.

As long as there is peace and love

There will be me.

With nostalgia and gratitude,

I treasure my imperfect body

This physical form

still captivates me

when I see my reflection and glance

at my delicate cheekbones and wrists

These hands of muscle and agility

Prepared to write, sew,

or strum a chord on a ukulele

My eyes are not perfect

Sometimes they wander

but how they are blue

How they reflect light

Daring and unafraid

Open to gaze into the hearts of men

Blond lashes and brows

Expose a childlike innocence

There is a softness to my smile

Rosebud lips like a cherub

Hair of the sun gods

Golden locks of curls

Shoulders, strong with the mark of a banyan tree

Clear, Stark, and vibrant

This body is not going to be around forever

The skin will wrinkle

like a grape in the sun

Moles will appear

like stamps of age

Stretch marks, cellulite, and sagging breasts

will replace my youthful childbearing form

As long as I can sit perfectly still,

To experience the greatness of peace and calm

I will feel the struggle of life

melt off my lower back

and dissolve into the floor bellow

 

 

I will celebrate and cherish

The long hugs,

The Belly laughs,

The conversations only interrupted by the need to pee.

What is life without home?

In my skin I am home

I have began to Blurr

A division

Among places

were I belong

Where I am from

Where I am home

My blue Passport

And Kentucky address

Cannot describe

This heart, taste buds, and body

Fingertips, eyes, and hair

Musical preference, inspiration, and spirit

Each have their own loyalties

To villages, cultures, and nations

Even my breath,

dreams, and energy

are far beyond the borders of land,

water, politics, and currency

 

 

Like thread in the quilt of time

I bring together patches of this and that

Dolphins and glaciers

Campfires and airports

Pumpkin seeds and shredded beets

Herbal tea and muddy feet

 

 

Mushrooms and messy hair

Wood stoves and fingertips

Rope swings on cedar branches

Teaching children under trees

Musky scents of fall leaves

lemon ginger honey tea

 

 

Mud bricks and hazelnuts

Hazel eyes in moonlight

Sandalwood incense

flannel shirts and ocean sunsets

Soft blankets and strawberries

Pulling weeds and peaches

Art galleries and ospreys

Seahorses and lake shores

Willow trees and trout

Linens hanging on the line

Drying in the wind and sun

Dogwood flowers and orange blossoms

Clean kitcken counters and drying dishes

Forrest hands and ancient eyes

Babies breath and wrinkled smiles

Vernal pools and simple machines

Morder and pestol

Basil and thyme

Reproduction and simple rhyme

Stick-shift trucks and calloused palms

leather boots and talcum powder

Jasmine oil and chamomile

bareback and straw hat

strong arms and silver hair

mother tongue and speechless lips

Branches brittle as bones

clay pots with clean water

swollen bellies and barnacles

high tide with a moon in the sky

Half full with blinking eyes

The sweet scent of a baking pie

Glass jars and soft words

Headstands and ice skates

Turmeric and coconut milk

Outdoor showers and downward dogs

Poetry and banjo music

Steam from hot mulled cider and hot springs in the snow

No order to perfection

No recipe for beauty

As you wish to be

That you already are

Dont you see?

What is life without struggle?

Never give up, Always let go

I appreciate the struggle that comes with following my heart.

The struggle in choosing one of the billions of possible directions and paths to follow

The struggle to be deliberate and confident with choice.

The struggle of drawing a map and walking the path at the same time.

The struggle of the physical form in a fluid field of energy

The struggle of choosing for myself rather than follow programed memory that yearns for superficial distractions.

The struggle to listen and surrender to the earth and myself

The struggle to break the rules and cross the lines.

Through theses struggles, fairytale dreams come true.

a poem from Italy

 

 

A reflection on leaving Naples

I contemplate putting on my sunglasses.

As if I am safer behind the plastic shades.

A girl with a scar above her right eye hugs me goodbye.

The breeze from a stopping train rushes by.

Squealing breaks, open doors

No where to sit.

No smoking inside.

I stand with focus, watching others.

Sedate with thumbs on screens

right, right, left, up, left, down

A pregnant woman is given a seat.

Two girls kiss.

On one hand

My fingers hold to the metal bar

On the other

A glass jar of drinking water is held tight

like an extension of my left arm

We pass Pompeii

To a tiny peninsula in southern Italy

Oranges and lemons glow

Like tiny flames in a grove of of trees

I move with unfamiliar ease

Like a professional ice skater learning to swim.

One day I will burn these clothes and shoes.

For now they are all I've got.

Not long ago I asked,

No,

I begged for fire and flames to engulf me.

Now I stand at the mouth of a volcano

Wondering how I arrived

And why this path choose me

My cheeks red

Lips chapped

Lungs desperate for cool air

Chest aches for the addicting heat

Fear sits close by wearing a mask of flames

"What were you expecting,"

The wise clouds ask with laughter "A cinnamon Iced frapaccino?"

I think for a moment unsure and then say,

"Something warm, but not burning.

Something memorable but not obvious.

Something thrilling but not dangerous."

"Dear daughter of the Moon,

You have entered a world ruled by the Sun

You cannot fight this fire inside or out"

The clouds above drift and swirl

Fear rises at once

"Don't you see how dangerous this place is?

It feels like your whole body is falling apart and the world is eating you alive!"

The Fear howls until my voice cracks and I have nothing left.

"What are you talking about?"

I stare squarely into the eyes of fear

"This place is the same as everywhere else we have been

Rocks, water, dirt, animals, people, plants, clouds, and........ Fire

Only arranged differently"

I calmly respond,

"You Fear, are a battler of power.

You are darkness sweeping through me.

Though I listen, I can not feed nor give you shelter."

I look to the sky and shout

"Clouds," I yell louder, "Clouds!"

They do not respond.

"The clouds are gone," Fear whispers and grins, gaining strength

"All you see is smoke rolling in the blue sky. Just the by-product of fire teasing you.

Ha ha ha smoke will only suffocate you"

I look down and see my body charred, scarred, and black with ash.

"You see moonchild"

My eyes widen and once more,

I hear the soothing voice of the clouds

"I am just the by-product of water.

One day smoke will be the creator of Earth

So do not turn away with despair

Give it space and respect

Look for nourishment in the soot

Take out the drums and Celebrate.

Celebrate the pain and flames,

In shades of copper, scarlet, gold, and black

For darkness, fear and fire

Are nothing from to hide."

"Of course."

I close my eyes and drop my head

Pretending I know this like the back of my hand.

Fear begins to look like a toothless shark wading in a puddle

Sorrento

The sun gently falls into the sea

I see black shadows cast against a golden wall

Hundreds of figures in black robes and pointy hats

Carry torches in the street In front of an ancient cathedral

I hear the sound of trumpets and children singing

Single flames flicker on window sills

Long rows of candles are lit on sidewalks

I follow the flames and the music is growing louder

Steel drums now pound with each step

Above I see my mother

The great moon in the sky to full it could explode

Grey Clouds wade like gentle guardians in the night

I have broken into a million pieces for this moment of feat

The Clouds, The Sea, The Moon, The Fire, The Music

An honor of death and life and everything in between

Fear feels like something that I once knew

Like a song I sleep with peace and grace

And wake to rain rain rain

All the way to Spain

vulnerability is the birthplace for creativity

I'm in Italy learning to be vulnerable.

I miss you.

Dumo Florence

Magic in the botanic garden

STAY HUNGRY, STAY FOOLISH