Blank walls, spackled
And clean, yet empty.
Stretch out your weary arms;
Feel the numbness in your fingers.
A can of paint, a brush, and a pan -
Colors bleeding from the shape of your mind.

Take a deep breath,
Feet flat on the ground,
And open your eyes.
You can remake yourself.
Paint the walls.


Blank walls, spackled.

You didn’t tell me you were stopping by;
yet you appeared so suddenly
like the rain does in early April.
We don’t say much although we want to;
what I really want to ask is: why are you here?
I stifle a laugh as I realize there is nothing to be said.
There is nothing ever to be said, especially after
twisting my branches off of my decaying stump
deviously deciding to lay them out before me, pointing at them and laughing before running away like a child
who has done something naughty.
I shake my head watching you run sadly watching
my dying leaves fall to the ground
oh so wishing you hadn’t done that.
I could kick myself wishing you would come back
with a sheepish look on your face trying to put the branches
back into place.
They would never go back of course, but it’s the thought
that always counts right?
Your voice suddenly snaps me out of the past:
"I just wanted to see you."
I bite the inside of my cheek raw
bitter metallic blood oddly soothes my taste buds;
a morbid distraction at best.
Still silence fills the air; creaking of the floor boards
is all we hear.
I really look at you this time: look at that! beads of
sweat appears! are you as anxious as I?
Oh cruel excitement, we meet again!
A slight devilish smile escapes me, I cannot help it.
"The door is behind you," I say and point.
Be gone, let me grow again.

The hedgerow pulse
seems quickened as the dipped flit
of three blue **** from here to there
declares that something is coming

Maybe too early to call spring,
the jackdaw on a slack wire
is still willing to give energy to balance,
as his eye sees good things

And the fettered earth begins to flex
as something elliptical
solar
inherent
returns to tickle us

I wash your sins
within me

I heal
and nurture
them

not for you,
and one moment
on your long list.

I cleanse
your transgressions for me

and for her,

and our daughters
and their daughters.

In the
undercurrent of my
being,
I bathe my wound
and swim
and search

for a way
forward,

because what is
existence
if not time
pulling
us along?

-

I think
I was born into
this life
a healer.

To feel this shared
pain
and see its shadows

as if light, reflecting
and dancing
against a wall,
creating
constellations
of
heartache.

I see now
my purpose,

to connect with the
heavens unknown
from this

earth

so this wicked
energy may
leave
this

world.

And us.

To nourish each other,
so that we can choose
to transcend
pain

a human existence,
where love
and its triumphs,
and
deepest
darkest
of
pitfalls

coalesce
into this flesh
to
cross both space and time
to make
generations.

This flesh,
that I now wear
proudly,
albeit
timidly
at times.

This paradox,
I want
for her too.

I saunter parallel to these pews,
dragging my fraying fingers along the tops.
Reaching for a wooden comfort, but
instead I’m pricked.
I shake the splinter and splutter the blood off.
Wearing my head high, I finish my descent
up the holy steps.
My mother stands,
stuck
looking past me and out the stained window,
letting it strike her into a silhouette.
The priest exclaims
New Beginnings!
My mother
matches his declaration two seconds too late.
My dad nods his head,
the final vote of the jury locked in.

With guilt and god on my side,
I take the holy plunge.
My head falls in,
harshly.
I’m aching for a numinous experience,
only to suffocate from the darkness
that comes with this reality
I will breathe into.
My head may be under the aquatic illusion of renewal
but my feet stay planted on the
fractured  ground.

I am forced to look past the daze of illusion.
Because in the light
I can clearly see the greys left in our destruction.
I look back and my finger has bled
all over the back of this dress.
New Beginnings!
I exclaim,
with a red stain grained into my backside,
but an empty canvas in the front.

With my hair slicked back I hear a
mumble.
You look just like your mother,
And maybe I do
hold her eyes
but I can see
what she can not.
The graying dreams that my parents are dis alluded to.
Their skeletons in the attic or the
boxes of dresses in the basement,
even though today I wear one.
I will look at the destruction created behind us
and not walk with them.

Because in this holy light
her eyes bask and only look
chocolate at its best.
And in this dim shadow
mine shine like amber honey.

Phoenix in flight, watch him in the sky
Engulfed in flames, ready to die
Phoenix in flight, watch him crash and burn
All things pass, today is his turn

Phoenix in plight, see him struggle to survive
Headed to the ground in a fiery nose-dive
Phoenix in plight, see him succumb to his fate
Extinguished by his own destiny innate

Phoenix in fight, look at him glow as an ember
Dwelling on the life he used to remember
Phoenix in fight, look at him flicker a flare
Letting go of the old, grasping for air

Phoenix in light, behold his bursting blaze
Reborn from trial in a smoky haze
Phoenix in light, behold his glory
Scorching a new chapter to his story

Phoenix in might, witness as his radiance shines
Fueled by desire to become divine
Phoenix in might, witness as his brilliance flashes
Because no matter what, he will rise from the ashes

Allow the rhythm
Relax in rest
Breathe in renewal
To stay at your best

Release the weight
Just let it go
Waves of renewal
Come as you slow

Your life is not
A speedy race
Renewal won’t come
At a frantic pace

There’s time for action
And a time to renew
Take time for renewal
In all that you do

A pure and genuine heart
in a masked world.
An honest rhythm
beating true.
Sending the blood of life
pulsing through my veins
Allowing my spirit and
body to rejuvenate and renew.