sandcastles

i was made not lasting.
show no photos,
no proof i was here
but proud work
satisfied with
ephemeral beauty.

a day where all the children
like to play bivouac
on the front lawn, full of
thoughts for guests,
for drinking,
for no one was home.
but they were already opened,
used and refilled many times.
little clusters of quartz crystals…

no, those aren’t my mother’s,
those are my own pictures on the walls
to remind me where i came from.
they tell my story,
the story of my family,
those children are my own children.
show me the rounds.
(how many…?)
it’s hard to remember school-time,
needed some extra help,
we were inhospitable at times.
(or was it?)

“how is your husband?”

oh, he is here.
he is well.
better.
walking.
what am i doing?
i have such a hard time remembering…

the man on the phone,
what was his name!
i called him something else,
i said, “maybe it starts with a g.”
did he say i was right,
or just getting close?
he said, “don’t you remember
you’re married and you have two boys?”
he was calling to tell me,
and i was still distracted, daydreaming.
i was in the city, enjoying the scenery,
i didn’t know where i was.
i didn’t own life.

yes, my job is that i am sensitive
to the energies that fill
the buildings and offices.
i work in what is my answer.
you didn’t say leave the money.
stay home, god.
he doesn’t care what other people think
of me when i am not love and loving.
i am not living.
i dreamed i bloomed.
i am not even planted.

gotten off course, angel.
need realignment.
healing and prayer is the core.
my body? well, the yoga and whole foods
keep coming back every time
i need to get this right.
shape up kind to my skin,
no-fillers-clean.
my house won’t worry
so much about decorating.

fall into place.
(sink back into the sand,
sit at the bottom of the ocean and see.)

focus your energies.

Dear Beings That Live in the Starlight,

Dear Beings That Live in the Starlight,

Hello! I see you now, as you dance around
in the reflections on this page
as the sun hits the clear-plastic-kaleidoscope
of my pen while I’m writing this note to you,
standing in one of your portals of light.

I’m here. You’re here.
How’s the weather, friends?
Let’s shoot the breeze…

Feels like you’ve always been there for me…

I felt your presence as a little girl.
The warmth of the sun on my arms as I played
in the grass, rode carnival rides,
and my bike to the five-and-dime.
I used to stare out my window
through the pink petals on the dogwood tree
and soak in the sun. They told me I wasn’t
supposed to, that staring into the sun is
a good way to go blind, but
I loved the geometric shapes it imprinted
in rainbow colors on the darkness
of my mind’s eye, where I
perceived you as something more
than they claimed you to be.
Not the god with the white robe
and long beard I knew from church.
Not the science on TV and in the classroom
that explained away your rainbows so easily
without the charm of your magic I knew so well.

You were there when the kids at school
laughed at me, pointed fingers and gossiped,
called me names, feared me for being strange,
when my reputation for witchcraft preceded me,
when I built my first altar in the hayloft,
when I fell asleep in the thicket
and all the faeries emerged from the little purple flowers
and danced around over my sleeping crown,
blessing me with their faery-dust;
infused in the music that carried me,
the books that fed my mind and heart,
the friends that shared lifetimes with me
in the infinitesimal moments of our youths,
in sunrises over the lake and the mountains,
laced with effervescent colors melding into
mushroom-clouds with the beat of our hearts.
I see that spark that shines just right
in my lover’s eyes, that something
that shimmers the same wavelength
you glow in my children’s souls;

There is something going on here.
Something more than meets the eye.
And I don’t always understand what you’re saying,
but I’ve felt you there with me, so much of the time,
and I know you have felt this way, too.
I know you are listening,
and I want to tell you: I love you.
I have always loved you.
I have been chasing your beauty and kindness
and joy-love all along.

Thank you for dropping me this line.
I so often despair, knowing all too well there are
much darker tunes out there,
but I trust in your guidance. You have ever lead me
away from temptation and every evil.

You are the heart of my quest.
My best friend, my forever.
You are everything!
In the fields, in the woods,
in the streams and abandoned buildings.
You are everywhere!
In my bones, in the earth,
in the stars, all the stars.

(Yes, I miss you when I forget myself
and get lost in the shadows.
Please forgive me for never thinking
to call you to me by name…)

Until next time,
♥♥♥

La-Di-Da

(I’ll do this now, no delay.)

I want an escape from reality.
Alter me, remove me from the current,
it’s an illusion. But, still, still,

I am always here, now.
So I guess I’ll just keep writing.
Biting off more than I can chew.

Always been chasing that dream,
this is where I’m supposed to be.

(This is the only work
I know how to do.)

Morning pages by morning light,
woke up at five and couldn’t go back to sleep.
Maybe this is a good routine.

(I am strong. I am full of energy.
I can not let pain define me.)

I am not apart from all things,
I am a part of all beings.
And when I remember that,
and live accordingly,
it falls into place so easily.

Independence in bloom,
the drive to accomplish
what one
puts their mind to.
I admire that.

(Time to show it.
Brilliant and prolific.

You are a poet, after all.
You know.)

Tralalalala

Missed, distracted, biting,
anything to keep from focused action.
Always getting in my own way.
The things I feel I can’t
are exactly what I need.
Exactly what is going to save me.

I wish we didn’t have to worry about money.
That we could just live life,
peaceably in our own way.
Move with the seasons.
Somewhere warm in the winter.
I like a little snow, but

I need a break.
Why am I so stuck on staying here?
Why do I hold so hard to the notion
that stability means staying put
in the same place for a long,
long time?

Let’s make it shine.
I do see a lot of beauty
and opportunity.
And there’s no reason being stable
means being boring.
The last homely house, that’s here.

Full of music and
healthy, hearty meals.
Movies, books, games.
Storytelling and dreams.
Relaxation, contemplation.
A meditative retreat.

Cozy. Our cocoon.
Shelter for wandering souls.
They may not be lost,
only in need of watering.
And when our wanderlust strikes?
We take off, too.

The mountains and beaches,
surfing and hiking,
the beauty of fresh fruits, smoking trees,
forgetting what I came here to say, and
the road trips as the
highway stretches ahead.

I have been praying and looking,
but have truly not knocked at the door.
What, did I expect my dream job
to land in my lap? Well, yes. Sort of.
That would be nice, actually.
And in a way, it already has…