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Anais Vionet Oct 15
Yin
I see them in reflections - the orange juice glass at breakfast or my iPhone where they can pop, like notifications - I keep my phone face down.

They usually want to tell you something - how it was for them - their history. I discount these emotional messages - they come with the jester's assumption that I care - that I need the performance and will get involved.

“What are you doing?” My mom asks, as I’m taking all the shiny, mirror-like ornaments off the Christmas tree.
“The glare gives me a headache” I say, without stopping.
“Your Grandma does that too”, she says, wiping her hands on a Santa-themed dish-towel.
“Really?” I say, but I know that and I know why.

I started having nightmares, when I was in first grade. My mom thought I had an overactive imagination but when she described it to my grandma, she soon showed up for a visit.

Over the next few weeks my Grandma told me about our “gift”. About how we were both born on the same day, under a waning third moon, in Autumn. That we're both “Yins,” doxies (sweethearts) of the dead and that we could, at times, see and hear people who were between stops on their way to their after-lives.

That’s why the dead parachute into my unused moments from reflective surfaces. They can be anxious or in despair - when their death is cruel or sudden but I'm an adolescent - I'm in school - what can I do??

The presence of water discourages them - which is perfect - can you imagine seeing spirits in the reflections of your bath? EEUUUWWW!  You’ll hardly ever see me without a water bottle or polarized sunglasses - which seem to break-up the images. I'll not be smothered in other people's afterlives.
Growing up, I lived in China, my Huàn gōng (au pair) would entertain us with tales from Chinese folklore like wandering ghosts (You *** ye gui) and the Yins who could communicate with them.
Kara Shirlene Aug 25
Woman or Dragon?
Some could claim one in the same.
When a fire-breathing Being is met with the winds of a Goddess,
And the flames of passion are fueled with raging love and fury.
When the beat of the heart and the blood of the womb
Ignites the rhythms of Dance and Flight and Life.
When the soar in the Soul is as mighty as the roar of madness,
And then the wings take control.
When the skin and the scales become tough as nails
Because walking through fire is all that's ever been known.
When resilience is more than folklore,
And grace rests upon weary shoulders.
When the embers remain after the flame consumes
And gentleness remains there too?
Only then can one begin to understand the meaning of both-
Dragon and Woman.
©KSS 6/2019
This poem was originally written as an ode to the Yin Yoga pose Dragon. It's purpose was to highlight the fierceness of women, and how dragon pose feels in the body. I also wanted to capture the gentleness that remains when we surrender into the embers and flames of life, fury, and love. That we, as women, are fierce, gentle, brave, and much like a dragon- breathe flames.
Kara Shirlene Aug 22
Dive in.
To the place of the unknown
To the spaces within
That, for far too long,
Have been left alone.

Breathe deep.
And give yourself permission
To move down, down, down.
Down, to the lost, forgotten
Child within, screaming for remission.

Set free.
The emotions of abandon and resentment;
Casting out and calling forth your ShadowSelf.
The atramentous Friend within,
For reconciliation.

Befriend.
This so called place of "Darkness"
It is within to make you whole.
Explore this space of deep emotion,
Waiting for it's story to be told.

Scream out!
Shed tears, do all that needs be done.
Feel the oppression, anger, heartache, despair.
Feel it until the place within-
The atramentous Friend, is no longer caged there.

Come forth
Now, with sweet release; ragged, yet-
Reborn, Renewed, Set free, Complete.
Move back into the Luminescent space;
The fear of ShadowSelf now obsolete.

Through Love
And honoring the Self as whole;
The atramentous Friend balances
The Luminescence within.
For through all things: As Above, So Below.
©KSS 7/2018
Molly Sea Aug 21
In the long, dark times before the start
I waited in the moonflower garden.
The vines grew strong, with pointed leaves
Toxic nightshade, witches w**d

I took them and wound them around my body,
Tight like linen cloth.
Through paralysis my bound eyes saw
Petals unfurl like napkins, new moon
Glowing ghostly white
Too pale to exist in daylight but

In the stillness of surrender,
Where I could not speak, nor move, I saw
Nightmares bloom as wisdom
.
Last night I came across moonflowers by chance. Struck by the name, I went down a rabbit hole of reading about how its flowers open at night so fast you can watch, about its mythology of blooming from the chest of Shiva after he ate poison, and about its use by indigenous peoples as a medicinal and visionary plant, as well as reading people’s crazy reports of symptoms while under its psychedelic influence. This poem was the result.
Yin
Kind, Divine
Loving, caring, consoling
Feminine, soft, masculine, strong
Protecting, yearning, comforting
Fatherly, soul
Yang
As the Phoenix rose from her ashes
And the Dragon silenced his roar
The distant lighting flashes
And he swoons as he watches her soar
For he had seen never something so bright
She burned with a fire that could not be doused
In this the Dragon felt contrite
And all her enemies the Phoenix would roust
She had this way about her, something so soothing and warm
Legend told of her beauty and intensity
And how she could calm every storm
The Dragon enjoyed her propensity
He found her beautiful, alluring and strong
The Dragon was mesmerized by her brilliance
She sang such a beautiful song
She exalted such resilience
The Dragon could not help but sing along
Though the Phoenix may have her battles, she will always win the war
For the Dragon sees the warrior
And her magic quiets his roar
So the Dragon is no longer a worrier
She moves in a way that's enticing
With every move that she makes
The Dragon will never abandon her
No matter how hard the ground quakes
The Phoenix is a one of a kind
An answer to a prayer
There is no greater light that the Dragon could find
Than the beauty of the Phoenix's flare
A Mar 27
I'm like a messy poem
&
You're the rhyme
I'm the blank pages
You're the words I can't find
I do the bruising
&
You do the scarring
I'm the pain while you're the damage
Like a thunderstorm
I'm the pouring rain
You're the lightning bolt
&
If I was the sun rising
You'd be the song of the birds singing
I'm like the drug
&
You're the addiction
I'm the lungs and you're the oxygen
We're both toxic
We're the same poison
Although, if you ask me
It's actually incredibly quite lovely.
& on & on & on we go
Kenshō Feb 1
the sapphire albatross
winding way of will
break the hardest
and wear away until
all has measured furthest
and met down that last hill
as all the drops converge
becoming less even still
all becomes one
in the ocean of time
all is perfect
not a single spill
Lauramihaela Oct 2019
I’m not more grateful
For the nurturing warmth of the sun
After a long winter
Than I am for the soothing shade
On a scorching day.
I love the yin and yang-
There is no good and bad
But thinking that makes it so.
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