Compersion; the idea
that when all else falls away,
joy is what remains.
Kairos
I’m leaning in to the Fear,
for I know where these tears have been,
how I could be the touch they needed
temporarily, but always just enough
to light their way imperfectly
as they settle in the nape of your neck,
the place I left to arrive again
without haste,
for deep time never stops
calling out our names.
Showing Up
Letting out the deepest sigh,
your left arm buries underneath mine
in gentle slumber.
I lie in wonder of this stripped back self,
the qualities that are left
when this moment is enough.
Eyes On The Weather Forecast
Presence is but a balance beam,
the thin, or ever expansive line
dividing past and future
in a measure of breaths.
It’s slippery if not gritted
and we tend to count the steps
we think we have left
over the strength of our legs,
over the snowflakes landing
on our upturned palms.
Can you marvel at their melting,
stay with them whilst they pass away
and soak into the skin which remains?
Can you appreciate the sky
as it waters your present
or are you so busy avoiding the cold
that your fingers burn
on an imaginary fireplace?
Shadow Side
The mid-night sighs in silent service,
awake with unfinished business
and heartache.
Parched throat,
thirsty for hope
but never to be quenched.
Thoughts desperate to make sense
will catch on everything that was never heard,
what we smoothed over to forget
the dark side of the moon.
Revival
Nature has a way
of pulling us closer to the source;
my mind once like stagnant water
now a spring well of loving kindness,
warmth streaming down into my chest
and out my skin in sunbeams.
This is real love;
thick with healing,
and I’m drunk from the call
of the wild side.
Inhabiting Woman
Maybe I should create
a map of my body;
points of interest,
places you must let it rest on this journey,
how to enter gently
then navigate my often swift exit,
the sites to discover
if you wish to taste it.
The shape shifting politics
and picnic spots of pleasure earned
with plot points to measure the distance
between where you are and where I return.
We’re both still learning the history of this sacred ground,
how to light up every speck of dirt,
the scale played by her buried treasure sounds.
This travel guide is as much yours
as it is mine,
tourists of the divine feminine
contouring her design.
