All the elements that we arrange
in the Periodic Table, the very first
bacteria and also we humans
are creators of the universe

In time and space we transform
the energy and co-write
the imperishable facts
on the edges of black holes

That information already existed
as Creator
giving it space and time
with a big bang

It's inconceivably
and inseparably both
energy and information
are aspects of each other

My mind doesn't get that
Even if in deep meditation
my consciousness unites
with all that exists, I am ignorant

There is a land by faith I’ve seen
Where skies no clouded regions know;
Where they know not the sorrows of time
and no shadows fall to blight the view
That land no want has ever known,
Nor pain nor sickness nor distress;
there, Death, the last enemy, is slain;
There those who meet shall part no more,
And those long parted meet again.
There’s a land far away..
Beyond these wild winds and gloomy skies,
Beyond Death’s cloudy portal,
There is a land where beauty never dies
And love becomes immortal;
A land whose light is never dimmed by shadow,
Whose fields are ever vernal,
Where nothing beautiful can ever fade,
But blooms for aye eternal.

I know not what tomorrow may unfold,
Or where the roads, as yet untrod, may lead;
but i know There are no borders, only wind.
Like you, I was born. Like you,
I was raised in the arms of dreaming. Sometime,
We’ll read the meaning of our tears,
And we’ll understand.

Oh there is a ball in my stomach
a tight knot of anxious confusion.
It circulates and undulates
dilates and twists
throbs
grows...
absorbing my life's energy.

"Let it free and watch it"

It emerges from my stomach...
the twisting blue-black mass
convoluting, churning
in the space in front
…and in a moment it dissolves…

My mind is clear
the rain falls gently outside
almost like snow...
Moving with the gentle breeze...
What power in coming into awareness,
Into relationship with
those things which pain me.

Depicting the Now:

vibrations of the breakers --


the wave of Being.

This is not how I thought I’d meet you my son.
In your plastic bubble, I don’t feel like a mom.
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Can’t hold you, or feed you, or rock you to sleep.
These are not the memories I expected to keep.
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So quiet and fragile, “it’s my fault” I weep.
Each night we go home with an empty car seat.
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“Can I hold him?” I ask. She says “you may soon, just not today.” “Maybe tomorrow will be the day.”

Even though I only get to behold you for now, it makes my life full of bliss just to see you in sight. Here, I patiently await to give you a kiss.  

I cradle my pump until my body is dry,
filling the freezer with my supply.
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“Liquid gold” they say to help fix you.
Drink up my sweet boy, it’s all I can do.
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Amongst the fear, the hell, and the anguish
there is light, a magic, and hope that all will be well.
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Late at night amongst tubes, the beeps, and the wires,
we form a bond that could start fires.

After 7 days of life is the day i finally get to hold you, so little and fragile my emotions running wild would not dare take a breath just in case it would hurt you.
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Nurses whisper and sing you a sweet lullaby,
they hold my hand “it’ll be ok mama” as I cry.
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They touch you tenderly, you’re theirs on loan.
Filling you with love until you’re ready for to come home.
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When we finally leave it’s bittersweet.
We’ll never forget those we meet.
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In those sterile walls, hands washed red raw
I hear the beeps long after leave those halls.
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Joy and nerves as towards home we drive
We’ll be sure to tell you about your start in life my sonshine.
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1 in 7 need the help of NICU
I just didn’t think it would be you.

there are times
when the meaning
of a word
is asked
one that
has been read
and regurgitated
used regularly
correctly adopted
as part of
an apparent
well-read
   or pretentious
vocabulary
however upon
being asked
its meaning
there is only
a blank
vacuous
addled
unable to provide
a succinct
or even literate
definition

to save face
to re-establish
the hubris
of this
abashed lexicologist
analogous alternatives
will be offered
oversimplified
synonyms
carrying a little
less gravitas
a layman's explanation
to maintain
position on his
self-congratulatory
podium

Doubtful of Self, of Realness

Fortified by others' knowing, or preferably- admiration

Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes

Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, Likes, thumbs up

Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead

Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse

Identity is a social construct

Awareness is not