Poetry, Reflections, Visions

“Say My Name…”

A voice whispers nearby, though I cannot see its source

it speaks my name…

And there is love in every syllable

embracing shadow, light and shame…

And suddenly I’m not alone anymore

on this journey I have chosen…

I am not judged, for triumph or failure,

only acknowledged for my wholeness…

And there is peace beyond measurement

in that act of remembrance…

rectification, validation and atonement…

in the silence that once spoke my name.

Out of sight, but never out of mind

just say my name, and I will come…

Love…

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Poetry

A Cloak of Peace…

Peace descends like a cloak

to embrace and comfort me,

offering soft boundaries and a sense of safety

to my shattered psyche…

No bliss accompanies this shift in being

but neither can the agony

of sheer existence

reach me…

I am Whole for a time

though it may be only for a moment

contained

and cocooned

in this illusion…

Stepping forth to embrace this day

and whatever it might bring

wishing for each of you

to feel such peace (and the healing it promises) today…

❤ 😀

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Poetry, Reflections

“A Body Without Boundaries…”

A body without boundaries

an existence without end

bleeding through and exploring

a variety of dimensions.

Meditation leads to dozing

and dozing to dreams;

dreams roll over again

into conscious reality.

But there is little to distinguish

these separate states of Being

other than the transitions

time spent in between…

Where Change is

the only noticeable Constant

the movement, the action

passive seeming dynamic.

Reaching out to Others

merging and blending

influence wrought not through force

but adapting.

And suddenly I know

why the walls were so solid

the ego so strong

the identity so crucial:

for Water without boundaries

is a much muted force

no strength to blast obstacles

and so easily absorbed.

Soaking in unobtrusively

embracing, becoming

One experiencing An’Other

defining Entanglement.

Until no boundary exists

empathy in its truest sense

with only a tingling and a feeling

in the transitions between.

Is this then the goal?

To be vague like a ghost?

Misty mornings, and rings around moons

shapeshifting clouds in midsummer blues?

No limits, no forms

no lofty hopes;

just being, in this moment

nebula adrift in the cosmos…?

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Poetry

“The Hourglass…”

The hourglass is flipped

a new period begins

with all the promise and excitement

that such newness always brings…

The sand starts to fall

immediately

a little pile forming

in the space known as “potential”…

[WAIT! I’m not ready yet!]

The pile grows taller and broader

spreading out

claiming most of the floor

of its newest glass home…

Like a disease of spirit

an imminent threat

“Hurry up!,” it warns me

“before you get swallowed…”

[WAIT! I’m not ready yet!]

But Time waits for no one

not even me

Racing always forward

like a river to the sea…

Slipping through our fingers

restricted only by the neck

No respect for age, nor wisdom

only temporarily controlled by glass…

[STOP!!! JUST STOP!!! I’VE HAD ENOUGH!]

And so it does…

Staring at the hourglass, watching the sand

one grain at a time, to see where they land…

They fall in formation, drawing loose patterns

Designs lost when the others reach out and then cover…

But I see them falling now, grain by soft grain

creating a wave of abrasives

to obliterate what I’ve seen…

[You may continue; I’m ready now…]

The sands resume falling

regaining their pace

Rapidly filling

that formerly empty space…

Potential takes shape now

a dune spread at the base

a pyramid built

of patterns stacked on promises…

And I’ve taken a stance now

I’ve made myself clear:

I will NOT be erased

now that my time is here!

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Poetry, Reflections

“On Being Called…”

I hear a distant sound,

faint and unidentifiable.

Light water babbling in a distant brook,

or birds serenading beloved oaks.

I feel a sound, deep in my chest,

existing far beyond me.

A rhythm of a different heart…

A gathering of drums…

I see a sound far off on the horizon,

shimmering and indistinct.

Like stardust on a sunny day,

or moonlight on a distant wave.

I smell a sound that doesn’t fit,

a passing scent, a simple whiff.

Like woodsmoke from a mile distant,

or night blooming flowers lost in darkness.

I taste a sound, both bitter and sweet,

teasing my tongue with its familiarity.

A hint of lavender and vanilla

with just the right touch of citrus mixed in…

Overwhelmed my senses be by something

neither I nor others can truly see.

Being called to distant places (or times),

being called to my discovery…

*** *** ***

So long, folks, for a little while at least, for I am being called away. Don’t know how long I’ll be “gone” this time, but I’m sure I’ll be back this way. I tried to resist, staying grounded, staying “home”. But the answers I seek simply aren’t here anymore.

So don’t feel forgotten, don’t feel ignored, for I’ve done neither of those things. Unless, of course, you prefer it that way; then, by all means, carry on! 😀

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Panic Without a Cause…

There is a near panic running through my veins tonight, a panic without a cause. It started last night as a vague, ill-defined fear that I tried to push aside. But it’s come back now, with a vengeance, and not knowing why is only making it worse…

“Let’s face it, Lisa dearest. You may have many faults, and quirks that make you weird. You may have real mental illness issues, even if you manage to blend in. But random anxiety attacks are not your thing, and panic is not your style!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!,” I respond too sharply. “Don’t you think I get that?!” I cannot seem to keep the panic out of my own voice tonight; I cannot even fool myself!

But the truth is I do my best work in crisis, staying calm, focused and on task. I may not be a physical asset when sh*t breaks loose, but my thinking becomes crystal clear. I am definitely someone you want in your bunker when all options are on the table, for I will see the “best” course of action, almost intuitively.

Tonight, though, I cannot find my way through tangled threads of time and truth, nor can I make sense of muddied waters all around me. There is nothing here! Nothing to do! There is only the panic, the shallow breathing, the racing beat of my own heart, and nothing (absolutely nothing!) to blame it on!

“Ok, child, breathe… Just breathe… Seek not, for those answers may not yet exist. Wait… And let the truth come here to you.”

*** *** ***

Sitting in the darkness now

hidden safely in the shadows.

Breathing strangled, but steadier,

heart rate coming down…

WIth my heart and mind,

expanding on all sides,

exploring every timeline,

claiming what is mine.

But the source of this eludes me still,

defying every effort,

every tool I’ve ever used,

leaving me lost at sea, baffled and confused.

“Wait! What is that?!,” as blood pressure begins to rise.

“Swooping shadows overhead,

circling…

then flying high to deeply dive.”

I’ve seen this pattern, recently,

earlier tonight.

There was a single seagull flying

over me, as I waited at that light.

Exactly this same flight path;

I remember thinking it was odd.

And last night, on the porch,

the same pattern mapped by moths!

Calm begins to settle over me,

as my thinking ratchets up.

“Yes! There is something significant in this…

Of that much I am certain!”

But what does this dance represent?

And who is doing it?

What spirit or form of self

is dancing this pattern tonight?

For it isn’t “me” or one of mine

enacting this persistent ritual.

But someone else entirely…

Or should that pronoun now be plural?

Yes… yes… I’m on to something now.

I see a circle, and a fire, with dancers all around.

I cannot hear the music that they dance to,

though I can see it in the way they move and sway.

They dance for peace and healing,

but they draw danger in with every swoop and swirling turn.

It circles in, drawing closer every round…

I’m not sure they even sense its presence as their feet beat an incessant rhythm on the ground.

Euphoria cut short…

Battle lost before weapons are even drawn…

My heart weeps for those who will be lost,

with the rising of the Sun…

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Poetry

“The Seed…”

There is a seed within me, growing stronger every day.

An instant of perception that weighs heavy in my brain…

What was it? Exactly? That led me down this way…

For I no longer remember details; just momentum and gravitational sway.

It started as adventure, high hopes and courage holding hands,

that slipped into monotony, repeating over and over again.

Until now it’s just a sense of direction, compelling and convincing

Allowing no detours, no lengthy breaks, no hijacking of resources.

“It is what it is…”

“I am who I am…”

No fault, blame, excuse or reason.

It haunts me like a shadow, attached but separate…

It hunts me like a bird of prey, far from reach but stalking…

I feel the eyes upon me, even now that I’m alone…

Paranoia’s icy grasp once more, or “I’s” I’ve not yet known?

I do not know…

yet.

But to admit:

There is a seed within me…

Germinating as we speak.

And soon it shall crack open

Revealing its epiphany…

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