I believe in you and must not try to tame you

I am learning that it is enough just to sit with and lie with

That it is enough just to listen to words being softly strung together

Rhythmic sounds conceived in mind, of heart and soul

Giving birth to desires and prayers

Lay your head on my lap my love

Loosen the restraints of the day

Unravel and find your rest in me

Drink deeply of my devotion

From the wellspring of my openness




I am in awe of your beauty and must not try to claim you

I am learning that it is enough to trust the nature of man and woman and allow

My fingers the freedom to travel, to dance, to trace and to follow

Your curves and caverns, seeking warmth, pulse of body and wilderness

Swallowing love's sweetness whole

Lay your head on my lap my love

Do you wish to see her?
Then soft steps and quick eyes
For she rises with the summer sun
To bathe in sparkling dewdrops, this beloved little one

Do you wish to see her?
Then soft steps and quick eyes
For she chases the wind blown leaves of Fall
To fashion gowns for Autumn's Ball


Do you wish to see her?
Then soft steps and quick eyes
For she tiptoes across the freshly fallen snows
Collecting glitter and dancing with shadows as she goes

Do you wish to see her?
Then soft steps and quick eyes
For hands on hips, this tiny one rules every grassy hill
Beckoning Spring and every other season, to come at her will

He told me I could search the world over and I would never find anything anywhere quite like him

I'm a Leo  

So I took that as a challenge and headed out on a journey

I returned to his door two and a half years later triumphant

When he opened his door I stated with pride "I did it!"  

"Prove it." he demanded quietly leaning against his door frame, looking, both intrigued and unconvinced.

I took off my back pack, set it on the step, reached in, carefully withdrew a mason jar and passed it to him.

"What's this?" he asked

"You."

"It's an empty mason jar."

"It's not at all empty. It's filled to the brim with all the stuff you're made of."

"Oh? What kind of stuff?"

" Inside that bottle is the magic of a rainbow I found in Greenland, star light I found in the North West Territories, wind from each of the four corners, air that's been caressed by butterfly wings from St. Lucia, sun beams from Samoa, the innocence of a newborn from Uruguay, the passion of a gypsy from Romania, the heat of a thunder bolt from South Carolina, the fragrance of the first bloom of summer from England, the poetic joy of Ireland, and one salty tear of a mermaid from Fiji.  You."  I said again triumphantly

"All that's in here, eh?"

I nodded.

"Well, you must be tired, being right can be exhausting." he said with a grin as he reached out for my hand

"It is and I am." I admitted placing my hand in his

"Would you like to come in?"

" Yes, I would like to come in. I'd like that very much."

An old black crow sitting on my tree
Squawks "Hello" each morning to me
Inquiring if I had a good night
Did I rest well? Did I sleep tight?

Well ain't it funny how an old black crow
Can care with a depth that you'll never know
Ain't it funny how an old black bird
Can say so much without saying a word to me


And oooooh isn't it magick, how that old Mister crow seems to notice whenever I'm blue
And oooooh isn't it tragick, how I let myself fall for a cold hearted lover like you.


Well that old black crow, he cares more than you
You know it's true. I never hear from you
I know he'd buy me a ring
And slip it on my finger, with his shiny black wing

Well ain't it funny how an old black crow
Can care with a depth that you'll never know
Aint it funny how an old black bird
Can say so much without saying a word to me

That old black crow sittin' on my tree
Squawks "Hey baby, won't you marry me?
Your old man don't know what he had
Cause I'm telling you baby, you ain't half bad!"

**Well ain't it funny how an old black crow
Can care with a depth that you'll never know
Aint it funny how an old black bird
Can say so much without saying a word to me

At touch

Backs arch
Atoms flare

Limbs unravel
Eyes reveal

Lips like pink petals open
Mouths filled to overflowing

Still  there is no sound
Other than their uneven breathing

Moments that affect us so deeply we are moved beyond words

She was still trying to figure out  "expectation".

When getting up in the morning she expected things;  a floor under her feet,  loved ones looking relatively the same as they did the night before, the car starting, etc, etc, etc. And the fact they continued to happen encourages expectation.

Expectation has a dark side though, and she had been bitten by expectations she'd placed on others that had not been met,  and she'd experienced hurt and shame at the not being able to meet other's expectations of her and her own unrealistic expectations she placed upon herself and had been crushed under.

But she wondered, "What if expectations are direct natural by-products of our chosen daily routines? Simply those ways of being we all have, created from options presented and found, and from preferences and passions explored and simply require that we be mindful that we do not crush others or find ourselves crushed under the weight of the unrealized.

What if it's also consciously making the shift from impatiently waiting for the appearance of a Happily Ever After, to rolling up sleeves, digging in and getting busy with the messy process of creating her own Happiness After.

Tired of day to day insanity

And of settling for living a life by default

A bruised heart digs its way out of human made boundaries

Then sets out

On a determined and uncompromising sojourn of reclamation.

Along the heart's travels, it meets up with a rusty magpie

With a liking for chalky ***** and waltzing

A wire haired pointer with a predisposition for friskiness and extra-marital

And a soft spoken Spanish guitar
With strings strung to tightly with the weight of deep secret longings

And Never Should have been made promises that seemed always in need of repair.

Unaware why their lives have merged at this time

The unlikely quartet move forward with the shadow of certainty always

Just two steps behind them

And perhaps that's as it should be

An early riser, I usually great the day before the dawn

This day was no different and my routine treated me to a delicious quietness and a gorgeous view of Luna, soft and glowing.  In that moment I could easily fathom how the ancient Egyptians envisioned our Earth as an egg watched over at night by the moon, seen as a great white bird.
A mother goose watching over her egg.

I felt small but also loved, protected and connected to something  much larger. I thought about how all our stories are small fragments of the whole that is Creation's story. This made my mind race with delight.
Mental images and words flooded me.

I have always loved imagery and symbolism. I have no idea why it fascinates me, it just always has. So, instantly my mind starts to symbolically merge form with words and I think of all the people I have encountered in my life's journey...

And I wonder what their bodies would look like if one were to map them.

The Physical. The Emotional. The Mental. The Spiritual.

Strengths and weaknesses
Struggles and ease
Fears and Bravery
Agonies and Joys

*What cartographic symbols would they choose to map their journeys and experiences?

Why do you continue to sleep this night?
Like so many others, refusing to awaken
I am losing patience with your lack of knowing
With your avoidance to feel

Hear me ... Come to me

Come back to the fore mother's womb
Know your place of origin
It is time for you to be born again of blood and lust
Time to drink deep and be nourished by Ancestral *******

I come to you in the quietness of the night
I come to you with arms that ache to hold you
With a tongue that burns to share with you
All that has been denied you for too long


What is happening to me?

I did as I was told. I followed the formula.

Studied well. Worked hard. Fell in love..
.
Why was it all taken from me? What is left for me?


Doing and not “Being” leaves no time for the sacred
You wonder why the emptiness grows inside you?
Let me love you into growing and into knowing
The truth of the fullness of a woman

Time to leave your antiseptic cocoon
Time to touch, to burn, to feel
Time to leave the shackles of other's man made rules
And dare to create your own from having lived

So many fear the dark.
But water and fire gather in the dark places below.
The brave and bold have learned to go there eagerly
They run with pulses racing.
Their bodies flushed, warm, alive.

Hear me ... Come to me

Tonight we shall meet and touch
It is our intention to reclaim all that has been lost to us
It is our intention to give to you, all that has been denied
Dare to free your body.
Dare to open your soul.
Feel.

Hear me ... Come to me

Let me dig deep into your soul
Become one with your Ivory bones
Know the harmony of your blood's song
Find the place where I belong

Let my footsteps echo within your mind
Journey with me through space and time
Let me turn you inside out
Breathe the Breath from your sweet mouth

A pulse stilled...now throbs and rushes
A tongue denied...salivates
A covert glance...seeks to be engaged
Flesh and mind flooded with new yearning...are hungry
Woman of the heart, Let thunder roll
Dig in your earthiness,
Follow your roots to your flesh
And find us dancing in your blood

You don't have to tiptoe around your heart
Dig in. Know it. Own it.
Trust the knowing will bless your lips and your hips
And set your world on fire!

Devastated was the word.  Yes, it fit.

The night before found her restless and fitful,  up and down, churning, besieged with scattered thoughts. Noisy chattering, fragmented bits of fear, hurt, shame, regret, disappointment and judgement, all jostling with one another, all scrabbling like jackals to be the first to gnaw on her bones.

Why was she carrying the full burden of shame? Had he not shown his flaws?

But as the indignation rose,  the words of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn  wept through like an Artesian wellspring of wisdom reminding, "But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

"WAIT JUST ONE MINUTE HERE, AL!" she protested.
crickets
"Oh no!" says she to herself,  as she dusted off her Ouija board, "You will come back here!"  

Nervous fingers and shaky vocal chords work together in a synchronized effort to pull him away from his glass of fermented potato and there he was, a bearded wild haired man with an intense stare that left her wriggling under her skin. But she was on a mission and she would not be deterred.

Clearing her throat, she began, "Mr. Solzhenitsyn ---"
Aleksandr raised his hand up  in a gesture to stop her
His heavily accented English softly penetrated the air.
"Pебенок, tell me, what do you need?"
"I need to understand."
"Tell me why." he pressed.

"Why?"  She forced her words past the hurt that sat lumped in her throat,"I'm trying to make sense of betrayal. How can people insist they truly love even after lies have been uncovered?"
"Tell me Кэтрин, would you agree that morality can often be found to be at odds with passion and desire?"

She nodded.
He continued, "And that good intentions are often found to be at odds with unconscious motivations?"
"Yes." she whispered

Aleksandr sat thoughtful for a moment, then gently and softly spoke. "You understand Кэтрин, your problem is, you want too much from understanding. It cannot turn shadow into light and it cannot right wrongs. So, no Pебенок, you are not in need of understanding. What you need is to accept that a thing is what it is."

He drew on his pipe and smiled tenderly. 
 "And you need to make a decision.
You must decide if your wounds have made you more ... or have made you less."

Last night as I lay in my bed, just outside my house
I heard the familiar patter of her footsteps
As they mingled with the rustling crimson and golden  "fallen of  just yesterday"

I leave my window open, waiting
To breathe in her delicious scent, that heavenly bouquet of
Upturned earth and crisp cool air that's been kissed by Gulf of St. Lawrence

Oooh, she's arrived

Her full hips, gracing Horns of Plenty, sway as she shimmies and struts about our island
Gathering firewood for Samhain and climbing the birch, the poplar, the maple
Adorning their leaves with Byzantine colours, cinnamon and mustard

Oooh, she's arrived


And as Islanders dream of abundance, she slips in through cracks and crannies
To sample pickles and jams
And to bless every farmer and their harvest as they sleep

Oooh, she's arrived and she calls to us to celebrate, to lift up, and give thanks!

Emptied and yet heavy with grief
She made the pilgrimage back to the Birch grove
Where once upon a time she played as a child

She made a nest from yesterday's golden and fallen
Crawled in and lie waiting
For the North to come and mercifully it came

Thick and harsh winter tears lay
Icy and frozen on her lashes
As beneath whitened eyes, stories replayed

Shoving and jostling each other
Among the snowy branches of her ancestral tree
Hungry to be the first retold

Silently, they filled her mind
Beginnings and endings sinking
Into her bones like moons slipping into dawn

And her stories are finally put to rest
And they will remain there, asleep and still beneath her winter tears

*Absolvi

He is man

Sometimes soft
Sometimes hard

But always a man who walks like a lion
With generosity of Spirit, lust of  body and fire in his heart.

He hunts with a clever and ambitious mind
For his seed and dreams demand to be sown

So many curious parts, that make up the fullness of a man
Beginnings. Middles. Endings.

Intricate
Fascinating
Perplexing
Sometimes Vexing

But he is made in the image of creation
And there is always beauty in his order and in his chaos

He is man

Hissing Cat! Why does your back rise up and chaff the sky?

This "ready to rise up and claw" attitude deprives you as much as it protects you.

Are you that fragile?

Has the creator not given you choice? Inspiration? Intellect?
Yes?!
Then why are you so hesitant to use them?

Is your life so right? So perfect? So full?
You have no need for the joy of expansion?

I wonder...
What if your fear, Kitty Cat, is not of the unknown?

But of the known.

We have drank in indifferent and contemptuous looks.  
And be they assuming or aloof,
Or be they from those we love and know or from those we admire and want in our lives...

Who ever they come from,  they leave a bitter taste.  

Yes, it's hard not to care or let it affect you but this is your life Catherine Ann.
Your one wild and precious life.

God gave you the heart of an Adventurer!
An Explorer!

So do it!

And trust in the Creator
And trust in you
And trust that Love will always find you no matter where you find yourself.

There is a love
Growing deep inside
Rolling at the edges of me
Like the dunes

Rising higher than the tall grass
That shelters shy lovers

When I close my eyes
I dream of making love to you
Can you feel the pull of
This love inside my heart

Surging ~ Swelling ~ Crashing
A yearning that erodes boundaries

Lover, can you hear the call of my ocean
My tide rising to meet you
Wade into my deep waters
Lacy froth rushing upon the shore

I am eager to know the touch of your warm flesh
Let me cradle you between my waves

New Lovers are interesting creatures
Primping our feathers and polishing tongues
So that rehearsed stories slip out with ease

Ahhhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times

The preening and waxing of word, as the hands of the clock move
Become less playful lures and more so ... expectant promises
That can resemble and feel like chain link


Ahhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times


Oh but the temptation to throw caution to the wind is too strong
We tear off our clothes and dive into love's depths
And we forget our mother's caution "Still Waters Run Deep!"

*Ahhhhh...these resplendent but dangerous times

The words were not there
But something was stirring deep within
Insanity or brilliance, perhaps both
Understanding the fullness of its urgency has never come

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

I wrote what I saw within
Heaven and Earth
Unlaced and dancing
Beating upon internal drums ... I could barely hear

I put pen to paper and wrote anyhow

And though I am sure of very little
I am certain of one thing
That you and I, are pieces of all of this
This primal dance of Heaven and Earth

*So I put my pen to paper and I write anyhow

When she entered his room she found him seated on the edge of his bed with the curtains drawn. The room was dark, gloomy and smelled of tired air and night sweats. "A no sunlight zone in here today or can I open a window?" she asked gently.

"Do as you please" came from a throat constantly hoarse from years of misusing alcohol, cigarettes and another night of yelling in his sleep.

She moved quickly across the room, pulled back the curtains and opened the window before he had a chance to change his mind. "Why do you say that?" she asked taking a moment to inhale the fresh June air. Lungs full, she turned and seated herself beside him. "It's such a beautiful day. Won't you come and sit by the window, if only for a few minutes?"

"Why? What difference do you think it'll make?"  he raised the pointer finger of his left hand to his temple and tapped. "There are times when the darkness is in here, there isn't any light, not behind curtains, not at the end of some ******* tunnel ..."  his voice trailed off  "... not anywhere."

A softly knitted "Oh, I see," slipped from her lips and trailed off upon a welcomed breeze that had entered through the open window. It waltzed around the room gathering as it swirled, carrying off their words, adding them to bits of red dust and scents of ocean, barbeque, and freshly mowed grass.  She loved the intrusion, the smells of the warm world just beyond these walls reminded her of the importance and value of small joys.

"I think I   should make you   a  paper moon," she spoke thoughtfully as though her idea were being pieced together as her words formed.  "Yes,   a paper moon,    one with a little red paper heart inside ... small enough to fit in your wallet   and on days when," he watched her struggle for the right words "... it's dark,   you'll have a backup  supply of light and love   right in your own back pocket."

"My God she's odd." he thought and said so. But it didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.  She just laughed and smiled then leaned in and added in a conspiratorial whisper "But I'm the very best sort of odd ..."

"Oh?" he asked with his first, almost smile of the day. "There are various sorts of odd?"

"Absolutely!"

"But you're the very best sort?"

"Absolutely!"

"And exactly what sort are you?"

"The harmless and crafty sort. Did I tell you?" She looked over her shoulders and then leaned in and whispered, "I can make the most wonderful paper moons?"

He turned his head away and facing the wall, he asked "Why are you so kind to me?"

"I have kindness in me to give and I believe you need it. So makes sense to give it, doesn't it?"

"There's lots of folks in this place needing kindness. Don't let me keep you."

She stood up, crossed to the door, turned and smiled, "Okay. Shall I come to see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah ... Why not?"

As she walked out into the hallway he called after her "Hey! Odd Duck, if you're feeling crafty tonight ... I'll take one of those paper moons of yours."

Let us think about the caring we receive
Each tender moment, small and large
From family and friends and even strangers

Kindnesses are no small thing
They touch our days with grace and joy
They refresh our hearts and souls as water does our flesh

May I always come to the wellspring of your kindness
Each tender moment, small and large
With head bowed in reverence for the beauty of what you share

They unite!

The swish swish sound of snowpants as sure thighs stride
The crunch of wet snow under boots
The disobedient strands of hair escaped  from her mother's tightly braided handiwork
Whipping about according to the wind's will
Runny nose, watering blue eyes, and cheeks reddened to a rosy apple glow by winter's puppy dog nip

Intent on a snowfort and snow angel mission
With no break taken except to quench a thirst once in a while
Eyes close and mittens lift the glorious white mannah
Tongue and mouth delight in the taste of winter that the snow carries deep within her hold
Could any wonder be more beautiful than the bliss of an eight year old on a storm day?

The drip was constant, a metronome measuring out time.
Bleary eyed, spirit bruised from another all-night argument
She had sought solace in the forest and the rain.

Perched on a rock, surrounded by the dichotomy of nature - Stability and chaos
Indiscriminate raindrops creating the rhythmic beading of water
She reflected upon her own duality

The steady beat of water had etched a small rivulet
Upon which a poplar seed was now travelling
On a journey to create new life in a barren place.

She wondered if all "constants" do the same
Create paths that can be used for the good

The thought brought with it a measure of comfort.

Absolvi*


I will swallow whole; the heads, the tails and guts of all offenses committed upon me and those committed upon others, by me.

I will absorb the energy of these dark offenses ~ the poison, the pain, the betrayal, the shame, the hurt, the fury, the fear, the indifference.

I will gather heavy chains that I forged in order to carry dark offenses with me and I will free myself and all the others I had shackled to them.

I will allow those offenses, those dark pages of my story, their rightful place in my history.

I will build each offense their own tomb in my bones and marrow. Every last weighty moment lived, will have its own burial site and marker.

I will lay flowers and walk away ~ head high ~ eyes clear ~ heart open.

I will allow them to rest in peace and stop dragging what has already been written to clean pages.

I will use clean pages for new parables and legends.

I will put away the widow's blacks and veil and wholly reconnect with the living, mindful of my many blessings and my need to bless.

I will remind myself daily of the importance of remaining curious and alive to reason and choice with complete focus of head, heart, body and soul.

I will enter into a new and untouched land~ My own "State" of grace ~

And I will reign sovereign over my own life with soft step, shrewd eye, love and reverence.

It is so

Come little butterfly
Come dance with me

Flutter your wings
Stir the air I breathe
Breathe your sweet breath upon me

Bewitch my captivated heart
With your delicate rhythms

Come little butterfly
I await your arrival

Take hold of my finger
In your tiny grasp
Lead me dancing into your world, the homeland of your heart

Come little butterfly
Come dance with me ...

Prudent and gingerly is a careful way to spend one's day

Although it makes the passing of time move dreadfully slow

Gives too much time to notice hair dwindle and grey

And to have ninety nine years of that...oh please No

Taking care of our minds and bodies is a right thing to do

But seven days a week, that's a bit much to bear

We might take one day or even two

To rebel against the steady, our trials and cares


Dance these mornings on grape laden floors

A rose in hair and one between *******

To a Spanish guitar that makes spirits soar

With a love that knows its quest

Gobble up cake!  Eat with bare hands

Strut like a peacock in finery

Living spontaneously, every moment unplanned

For a day or two ~ limitless and free

Their disapproving stares could not tame
Nor their prayers quench the fire in her veins

This tempestuous primal bloom with skin that smelled of lavender and tasted like the sea
Had a thorny sting as sharp as the arrogant wasp

"The loss! The loss!" they warned as they tugged and pulled on the hem of her skirt
But she kept walking, staying one step ahead of the fullness of their grasp and her own wind blown shadow

They responded,  "Go then! You are in God's hands now!"
Their words stopped her and she turned to face them, "Indeed and I go gladly. Perhaps you'd care to join me?"