There’s nothing I can do
about the noise in the world
except my reaction to it
What is a name?
A name gives us identity.
We can stake a claim
like life itself, it’s ours:
to make, to learn and grow,
to make mistakes
I am a Jen.
It represents my name
in a particular time and place:
The 70s.
Those were quite uncertain times
of war and trauma
and the broken promises
of the American dream.
We all have a choice
even our name
In the end, we are not fixed
like a heavy boulder that sits
and waits to be reclaimed into the earth
We are mineral and bone and flesh.
We breathe and remember that this,
this is us
Mutable like the waters
that can make the biggest stone crack.
We all have that power within
Fifty
The book of my life
was written
and handed to me
on the day I was born
Before I knew what
language was
The story was laid before me
As I was put into
my mother’s loving,
welcoming arms
The world began anew
The days and seasons
spun and turned
without me even knowing
of their existence
“We are here for you”
Legs became stronger
First steps and fumbles
The first of many practices
I opened the door
and nature greeted me
with open arms and
a belonging
To know I was where
I was meant to be
I laid down on the grass
My senses alive
Before I could even
open the book
of my life
I was free
Last Azalea
My last blooming azalea flower holds firm,
not ready to let go.
With every bee and hummingbird
– a visitor –
who only can return
when skies turn blue and warm sun shines
I must wait for the wheel to turn
Everything
Everything ends up
in the trash eventually.
How fast it gets there
is up to us.
Believe
I am the balance and reflection
between sky and earth
atlas and axis it spins
I believe in myself
to hold it in my palm
and radiate that light
Sometimes
Sometimes I can block out
the noise, fodder and distraction
and hear that inner voice
who tries to say her lot
always calm and gently
It often disappears under the rumble.
Her voice is rooted in love
and always looking out for my wellbeing
when I stop ruminating, interrupting,
habitually filling the awkward silence,
I free the inner me
out of the cage of silence and past hurt
out of the chamber of iron and thorns
to express utter knowing and passion
when did being authentic become so scandalous?
Where do I find the sacred?
In the vast big sky
the clouds march above
morphing, growing, stretching
apart at the seams,
and somehow able to defy gravity
The butterfly flits;
the busy bee visits with flowers
cuddles, coils, an intercourse
in its own merging
The bird soars high above
amongst the clouds
envision and flight
something I can never grasp as my own
So instead, I can appreciate
We are not all that different:
the trees with their ever-changing leaves;
the moon’s predictable phases;
the ocean waves ebb and flow
Each day I find the sacred
on the earth and in the sky
I take it all in, and end it all with a sigh
Can I be okay with the silence?
I see everyone around me on their phone
even in the water, they wear it around their neck
like a noose or a dog leash
I don’t know
but I don’t want to live attached to some appendage
and when it is gone you feel a loss
you don’t know how to fill in the moments,
the awkward silence
a stranger to your own mind
Inundated with opinions, media, news
It’s hard to separate the independent voice from the noise
Is there any original thought or has there never been?
We document our moments
Hosts of our own lives
oversharing and blaring
adding more to the stream of information
I want a reprieve
a break in the noise
to be okay in the void that remains
Then I get to decide what to put there:
a comfortable armchair, pillows,
a small table for cookies and tea
a blanket and nook for my book
Here I have room to breathe
we are wireless beings,
not meant to be tethered
we have freedom in the space that remains
to explore, to listen
We don’t have to post and add to find meaning
the chaos and noise will always be there
when we pick up our device
I am the conductor of my life
and today I choose the breeze,
the sunshine, even when it is smoky
I do not have to escape from the present moment
there is nowhere to go
Just here and now is all we got
I am grateful for this breath,
this strong heart that loves and holds
A freedom beats in my chest
My inner light
My inner light cannot be contained
in just skin and bone.
There is a ball of energy
all around us and beyond us.
Even the tree has its feather tendrils of light
that sprinkle down and dig deep into the earth.
We share this glorious sky and bright sun.
Though we are at mercy to mother nature’s fury and grace.
Out of nowhere the lightning cracks open the tree.
Did it deserve it? Was it at the wrong place, wrong time?
There is no reasonable, acceptable explanation.
We get knocked off-kilter, off-center
I touch the earth and I am held
if only just for this moment
and the next. It is enough.
