Tell The Others I’m Spoken For (Nature’s Bride)

Tell The Others I’m Spoken For (Nature’s Bride)

I waited for the signal

of birds professing that the day ahead

was waking from her slumber.

There’s a peace in the dawn

that guides us all; an opportunity

for the heart to lead

before we’re all supposed to rely

on the ritual of speech

and I open the gate to greet my selves there.

It’s early enough in the morning

we aren’t required to play whole,

chasing the shadows that unfold

as the sunrise serenades us with its daily composition

but always different shades

of purples and pinks and greens.

They change with my heartbeat,

wind caressing my skin

in time with the gentle blues.

Nature; the lover I’ve been missing,

the world that lays itself out for you.

Home Is Where The Spirit Goes

Home Is Where The Spirit Goes

You are not so separate from the source

that any connection must do.

All start as bricks and mortar

but some become burning buildings that bury you.

This incarnation is a circular room

with an infinite number of doors;

stop paying attention to the pretty patterns on the walls

and place your damn fingers on a handle.

Practice the gripping

then practice the letting go,

then place a foot through the frame

into all the versions of you

this world is yet to know.

Standing Ticket

Standing Ticket

It becomes part of a spiritual practice

to take one’s shoes off,

leave life’s dirt at the door

and find grounding for the body

through soles of the feet

meeting cold, hard floor.

The glue that binds us to the present

whilst infinity shows up to greet my soul.

The source of the indeterminate.

It’s a universal concert

and I’ve got a standing ticket.

The place I go to be everywhere at once

by going nowhere at all.

Hand In Hand

Hand In Hand

I will raise my voice to speak,

begin to rejoice in my action

even if no one hears me,

for this body houses a spirit

more powerful than the layer of skin

touched by another’s fingertips.

They dip their desire in holy water

whilst I make my mark with pincer grip,

acknowledging your visit to this sacred space,

a ticket stub reminder of all that’s temporary,

you can only ever sleep beside this,

an understudy to my lifelong apprenticeship.

But first, take off your shoes,

this is holy ground

we both need to learn to worship.

One For The Road

One For The Road

This empty hotel room

senses the lack of you,

scent lingering on sunken pillows

smells bittersweet, blended with jealousy

as my heart bottles this moment,

cap screwed on tight

in an effort to capture perfection

before it leaves on a plane.

I belong to the longing

and gather what stays,

your tiny imprints and easy mornings,

how you take your coffee,

the fit of your arm

as it curls around my waist.

Time’s precious reminder to stay present,

savour textures,

so I’ll take one of everything you sell

and make each bite last

somehow

until the market stalls open

with even more of this good for sale.