The breeze rattles
and shakes
the Dogwood’s blossoms
lose their grip
and they let go
whether by wind or time
their brief beauty lies
a wish on the wind
scattered below
like confetti
a celebration and a
mourning on what has passed
is past. And I will wait once again
with bated breath on our joyful reunion
come spring again
It is not dark or full of shadow
It is not dark or full of shadow
the light illuminates
the hidden parts,
buried treasures
just beneath the surface
What jewels do you have
hidden, just out of view?
forgotten
or pushed to the edge of the frame
and it falls away from our
consciousness.
our good intentions
literally laid to rest
It can be dirty.
hard work has its labors
beneath the dirt and grime
the jewel lies in the hands
of the beholder
I am that spark of light
a jewel hidden behind
the sparkle of your eye
It is not cold or dark here
a warm, moist soil
Nourished and ready to
flourish
to become
what was just a seed of potential
Loving hands parted
the soft earth
to make a bed for me
And I lay down
like rose petals’ sweet scents
peppering the rich soil
And in these fertile conditions
I bloom
I become
I am
Little Bird
Soar little bird
find safety in the many.
Many hungry mouths
they do not know where, what
or when their next meal is.
The struggle for survival is real.
You have to always be on guard
in case of predators.
Even in all the danger and uncertainty,
the little bird sings its melody
so sweet and uniquely its own.
It sings not only as a calling,
as a means of communication,
but because it is its own
unique expression of the good,
the beauty, the gift of this thing
called life.
Many humans may never know
what a gift today brings.
The little bird reminds me
that I am not alone;
that seeing the good is not wasteful
or a trivial thing
but the only true and real reason to live.
Enjoy the brief moments of pleasure and joy.
They are the things made out of stardust.
What a marvelous thing that made me and you.
That spark of life. I take it gently in my hand
and place it over my heart
in a revery and duty
it is mine to carry.
No longer secret knowledge
only for the saints and the sages.
It is not so quiet and humble
but the echoes of the ancients
bellowing out on loudspeaker
and humans have been too busy
living in their head
that many may have missed
the many glimpses of this universal truth.
Each day is a gift.
It does not only belong to the few.
It is a universal truth and right.
Hold out your hand.
Be prepared to not only see but feel
the magic transform into raw energy
to be that songbird in the trees
with not only a tale in its heart
and a whisper of truth on its tongue.
But to rejoice and celebrate this day
upside on the earth
Feel and be that joy, my little bird.
Raindrops
Raindrops form into puddles.
ripples dance and gather
in concentric circles
as they meet and land.
Is the drop’s essence still there?
or is it formless,
beyond the puddle
beyond the many parts,
perhaps something greater?
Do we lose our individuality
when we sleep, when we eat,
when we digest,
when our heartbeat drums?
The way in
Do you believe in magic?
fairy wings that sparkle true,
birdsong that calls for my attention,
What turns the tide in the ocean,
and whispers "grow" to the trees'
invisible blossoms?
I refuse to look for evidence
of the contrary or a
second opinion.
Instead, I hold tight to this truth.
There is magic inside of me
Inside of you
The way in starts with the heart
the beat uniquely yours.
a jewel in your chest
sees the sparkle of another.
The way in starts with what inspires you,
where do you find your footing,
what uplifts and grounds you
deep like tree roots.
The answer can seem fleeing
and almost imperceivable
like a slight movement in the
corner of my eye
I saw it! I felt it.
I know it deep in my bones.
And I have the authority
to choose to see the magic
in a blossom, in a leaf,
in a snowflake, in a branch
now brittle but once full of life
coursing through sweet nectar.
A perch, a safe place to land.
We all want safety.
What brings you home
to your heart, to your own sense
of belonging?
There is magic there too
in your strands of hair
down to your toes
life courses through
your veins, your breath.
The magic of atoms and elements
made of stardust to make you.
Now
Do you believe in magic?
The mockingbird
The mockingbird laughs outside
on a tall branch of the tree.
It brings the joy
and the reminder
that laughter heals.
It is good medicine
to lighten up
to be lighthearted.
It makes all the moments
of the day
just that more precious.
To hear the mockingbird,
I am reminded of all
my bird visitors I have
come to know
just by being still enough
Quiet enough
to recognize their unique markings
knowing that I too am my own
unique expression.
Walls
The built-up walls
The independent streak
The survival mechanisms
to protect what was fragile
and innocent
A shell of hardened shards
Sharp, pointed and smooth
A whack and a crack
and the facade melts through
the vulnerability, the innocence
Lost too soon in the harsh cold dark
Uncertain to be liked, to be wanted,
to belong, to be me
appreciated and loved
not tossed aside, a blemished heart
The contents spill out
Walls that seemed so high, so strong
a wash over like a spring
that has finally sprung
The love, the innocence, the belonging
all still there
they always were
a crack and a whack
and I blossomed
into a mighty tree
The Kindness Coupon
More than just a gift
or a flight of whimsy,
Kindness is a feeling
that can be shared
and carried on.
We live in an inter-
dependent world
and kindness is powerful medicine.
a heartfelt-message
without request or reciprocation
makes a hard day just a bit more bearable.
a smile forms across my face.
I feel a little lighter
as I hold that pencil-scrawled note
from your heart to mine.
The first signs of spring
The purple crocus appears
it burrows through
the hardened earth and pushes away
Dead leaves of seasons past.
A pop of color haphazard amid
the gray and browns
of yesteryear
All in perfect timing.
The starling is perched above me
a thin twine ensnared and jutting
across its strong beak
Nesting time is here.
Another starling calls out
a steady, monotone cry
its glistening purple and blue
head and stark beady yellow
eyes. The tail pure green turquoise
How unique its color
its cry
Blades of tiny green
fill in and around the patches of brown
new growth and hardily
All in perfect timing
The Waiting
Time slows to a crawl
The breath is my anchor
to the here and now
It is a soft place to land.
Time feels beyond my reach
I am either behind it
or waiting for a future moment
when it seems just right
To balance between
the waiting and the go
can be frustrating
uncomfortable
My thoughts are stuck
playing a loop
on the same recording
and it is hardly helpful
My thoughts are a made-up story
Where fact or fiction meld
into an excuse – a righteous reason
and I dutifully follow the trail it makes.
Distraction
Wishing things to change
but me, myself, I don’t
change is scary but necessary
How we grow
How we transform
How we create
All effects from change itself.
Do I embrace the wait?
The change that comes too soon
or seems to agonize on and on
Where’s the silver lining?
Isn’t that the point?
I have to wait
There is nothing I can do
but wait.
Healing Insights 