Where are the women who have had to learn to be human?

One could say the body is a metaphor, but that’s not quite true
It speaks and sings and dreams on its own
And does its call and response on cue
But the being is more than reflection

New pathways in the mind
That space behind the eyes awakened
(Feeling safe, perhaps the trigger)
Colors mobbed for purchase
Dramas playing out
That skimmed moment before sleep

To what do I owe this epiphany
This deliverance from pain

My guide sits quietly
While I stroke the flanks
Of a quiescent panther
And note how its consciousness is out of body
There in the same glen of my meditation
Where a black goose has also come
These sacred animals just visiting
I had to record them for no reason

Whenever the sound, sight, technology
And super-ideas convene
The focus becomes clearer
Love the ocean?
It sings soars, roars, rolls and delivers
Birds fly
Their wings determined
And deft with the sculpting of space

I’m left with the notion
That there is no embarkation
Demarcation or separation
Except for the touch of one being
Upon another

Perspective

Time is so elastic, with a quality of kindness
One can nestle into
Wrapping oneself in the
Infinite expanse of space

She's very tall ... I glimpsed her once
Presiding over the universe
On a golden ribbon, sacred artery
That flowed beneath her feet

And in that river, bright leaves appeared
containing, microscopically
Uncountable beads of karmic treasure
In all beings' book of lifetimes

It seems ridiculous to think of
Parceling Time into segments
She laughs at the idea
Of being cut, corralled or measured

She stands so broad and colorful
In her long coat, until she smirks,
Turns sideways and
Disappears entirely

Leaving only patches of light
Like melting snowflakes in the dark

Koinonia

How we all change day to day, year to year.
If I met the person I was sixty years ago, would I like her?
Forty? Twenty? Yesterday?

Talking with my seatmate on the plane
I tapped into the universal language –
Commonality is a lingua franca
Last night on the dance floor, each of us shone
Like individual moonbeams

I liked the women in sequined dresses, all silver and gold
And the tipsy girl in tulle
My aging muscles remembered the steps
Knees complaining afterward
Like proud, exhausted athletes
Who didn’t shoot the winning basket, but helped

Our moonbeams flashed
With the same kind fire
Into the welcoming night

And fifty years ago
My hips could telegraph and tease
My arms could play a talking drum
Of anxious youth
Striving for a clear opening to victory
On the racecourse of world peace

Would that girl recognize this queen of leisure
Tuning her senses to each sentient being without a qualm?
Anxiety is a burden not to be borne
Oneness is our Blood Type O
And will I take this knowing into tomorrow?

Perhaps my consciousness is a layered dress –
Sequins, tulle and silk
Over clean, soft cotton
All the layers pressed together imprint the soul
Like a leaf from under the microscope

Note: Koinonia means a spiritual communion. This was the winning word correctly spelled by the winner of the National Spelling Bee, 14-year old Karthik Nemmani. This poem is a reflection on layers of self, after attending a wedding and reception of my dear nephew. Traveling cross-country to be with family brings up a lot of feelings. Who am I? Which I?

The Approach of Twilight

The slate blue clouds layer across the sky above the last remnants of gold clinging to the tops of the trees. It’s that melancholy time of day that I love so much.

It reminds me of the summer after my freshman year of college, when I was walking on the lawn at Rockdale, my Grandmother’s house, with my beau Langley, a fellow poet. We were discussing the book I’d just finished for English class and the report I had to write that weekend.

It was Faulkner’s “Sound and the Fury” and Langley felt it was a real story that exposed the underbelly of true Southern life. He had grown up in Culpepper, Virginia, and ought to know. He wrote poetry about cows and drying tobacco, then.

Somehow that stroll across the lawn is how I always feel about twilight. The fireflies are just about to come out. The air is warm. It's early summer, and you can hear the distant barking of a dog.

Now it’s only April, but already I feel the approach of summer. I’m ready for those languid days of drinking lemonade and watching the bees looking for clover and alfalfa. I’m ready for whatever inspiration may come.

Why are we artists so prone to melancholy? That’s a question for another day, but I put it out there. It’s always haunted me.

Life

Life, this precarious
walk the line muthafucker

Life, a knife blade
through the consciousness
The oceanic plasma
enfolding, obliterating self

Life, that sweet
notion of a hundred senses
drawn into seven

Life, the essence,
the effervescence,
the endless, the
storm before the calm

We all have
high standards
We expect a lot

We've put in the time
We've counted the years
We think, okay,
Now
can I relax?

Life, the great
Leveler
You never know
But you have faith

Your heart beats
Your lungs take in air
Your lips carry the smile
from your eyes

Your human love
was crafted from
the Big love

It's an assignment,
for sure, and you're
doing your best

Waking Meditation

The eerie morning restless came gently to my bed
And pressed upon my heart three things
Remember love and honor, and the shape of time
Its ebb and flow, its worn remonstrance
To be unencumbered
And with this sinuous flower growing in my
Heart-mind
Dropping peopled scenes like petals
I rose to wander through my rooms in silent greeting
Foggy morning waiting with its cold gray arms
To still my inner turmoil
While the trees danced from side to side
And the occasional car sailed by with eye-lamps open
Life, this fragile paradise
Softly nestled in this mute body
Who am I to question the journey's right or wrong
A vertical mind and thoughtful music
Coaxes random pieces into sense
My kindly angel resting her hand on my shoulder
As I write

Just Out of Reach

In the cavern of dreams
Reality is a chameleon
Dancing every step
To imagination's
Soft guitar

Our shadow self whispers,
"Want to see my colors?
I'll open my coat."

Ring of Fire Speaks

This could be inspiration for a short story or poem. Or maybe just time to have a cup of herbal tea and take some deep breaths.

Today's news for January 22, 2018:

1) A 7.9 earthquake happened in the Gulf of Alaska, triggering a tsunami warning that thankfully was later withdrawn.

2) A volcanic eruption at Mount Kusatsu-Shirane in Japan was subsequently followed by an avalanche that trapped 78 skiers, injured many and killed one.

3) A volcanic eruption occurred in Mount Mayon in the Phillippines, forcing 50,000 villagers to evacuate.

Just a few days before, on January 18, 2018:

4) A long-dormant volcano on Kadovar Island erupted, and about 1,500 people were evacuated in islands of Papua, New Guinea.

If you look at a map, you can see that all of these events happened in the so-called "Ring of Fire" which is where volcanic activity is most often recorded. Technically, the earthquake in the Gulf of Alaska could be slightly north of the edge, but I'm not sure.

The simultaneity of these events suggests to me that something larger is going on deeper underground. I'm no scientist, so I'm not sure how this works, but it looks like Gaia is restless. Is anybody else connecting these events? Or am I crazy?