01192013

another mindful serendipity...

morning chimes.

grace unravels.

i spill myself like ink

inside this open vessel.

01142013

the air is dressed in a hint of

paper, this morning, a swath of

bark, shattered and smashed.

it strains to lure me away to

another time, another place.

and while, before,

i might have said,

i will not stay your hand,

today, i sing a different song.

sitting in a mild cross-breeze

of south and west,

i know,

not even the air, with its

wiley ways, can make me

fly outside of myself.

oh, no!

not even you, air!

not even a legion of elements!

01092013

sometimes

i imagine myself a book scribed

by invisible hands

chapters here and there

pages full and flowing

but for the blank page

every randomness in a while

even those empty pages

are heavy with stories

shuddering with narratives

voiding their lungs

of the perpetuity of

the false whiteness

they occupy

01022013

she said,

i feel as though

i’ve lost touch with

that chunk of my life—

those twelve years that once were,

but now no longer are.

i can’t remember any of it.

i can’t… nothing at all.

i said,

can you give flesh to

that emptiness?

she said,

i can’t.

i don’t know how.

i said,

what do you feel

inside yourself?

she said,

i feel nothing.

i feel numb.

i said,

shut your eyes and

go inside yourself.

she said,

i feel shallow. dry.

hollow as a drum.

i said,

where do you feel that?

she said,

right here. between

my rib and my heart.

i said,

what is the emotion

inside what you’re feeling?

she said,

loneliness. sadness.

despair.

pick one,

i said.

she said,

i feel fear.

make space for it,

i said,

and let it be.

she said,

i feel shame.

i said,

make space…

she said,

i feel anger.

i said,

make space…

aaaaah…,

she said,

i feel free.

i said,

the mind will forget.

the spirit will forget.

but the body will always remember.