Categories
Poetry

To Rest

What is this life

that drags me all the ways

through every shard of splintered glass?

I want to scream at the sun to stop!

Just for a moment,

stop.

Stop shining there.

I want only to wish on the moon

for peace,

oh for peace!

For peace,

indeed,

is a dream

to those who seek it

lifetimes long.

To rest a moment

beyond the race

is the blissful day.

To rest a moment.

To rest.

This moment.

Categories
Poetry

Until The Garden Grows

Your truth is true

because you believe it.

And you must believe it

until you no longer do.

There is no quick way to birth a rose.

A rose must slowly

awaken

to beautiful

wide-open

life.

Wide-open-life.

It is a place that exists only

in the sky of us.

A neutral place,

where all are loved,

and all love

unconditionally.

Believe what you will.

Choose a side

if you will.

It is true for now.

It is true, only for now.

Until the rose opens.

Until the garden grows.

Categories
Poetry

All That I Am

I am all that I am,

and wherever I drift

on the wind of today

is as it should be,

is all that I am.

As it should be

is all that I am.

Categories
Poetry

As She Will

The sun is one

but never can shine

as one.

Her rays will splay,

and always touch the world

(in slices)

as they do.

How they splay

is a question for each new moment.

Who they will touch,

and in what way:

undiscovered.

The sun will shine as she will.

The sun will always shine

as she will.

Categories
Poetry

Only Quiet

There is no sound.

There is only the air.

There is only the peace that was stolen

from the garden

of every man.

There is no sound.

There is only quiet, now.

Categories
Life

Bullies and Paradox

Fragile would be an excellent word to describe me in the face of the western world’s bullying culture. I’ve been hearing the same internal whisper over and over for the past few weeks: fortify, Brooke, fortify, says the quiet voice, barely heard above the noise.

I’ve been away from facebook for a very long time, but over the past week or two I’ve gradually dipped a toe in to see how things are going. I’ve loved reconnecting with my lost people, I won’t lie. And things have been lovely and positive for the most part, which has been a nice surprise.

But. There was that one moment. The one that derailed me, the one that had me questioning: what do I do with the way I feel about this? What do I say to myself to help it feel a little better inside? Apparently the humans have come up with a term for the ache I came across. Cancel Culture, is it? Where a person is shamed for holding a view that is not generally agreed upon (and therefore, cast out of society, via pitch fork) is the general gist of it.

In this case, I came across a post which mentioned a man ( out of respect, I’ll not name him ) who has received quite a lot of back lash in the past due to his alternate views regarding health and wellness. The post was celebrating his downfall (I can’t remember the specifics) and the comment below the post was so vicious, it actually ached within me. It really had me wondering. Are we really still there? Slavery may have been abolished, but apparently we are still bullying the innocent (which is much the same thing, in my eyes.) Many a time in my life I’ve considered becoming a hermit. Tonight, I edged ever closer.

I would consider myself an extremely forgiving and compassionate person, but I have to say: I am struggling to find compassion for the bullies of the world. I try so desperately to see the higher perspective, to be there for everyone while we muddle our way through the chop, but it’s so hard. It hurts to say that, because I really do feel that every person is beautiful in their own way, even those I don’t necessarily resonate with.

I was bullied very badly early in high school. In fact, it was so bad that the whole class cheered when I was called out of the classroom on my last day at that particular school. My Mum thought I was going to kill myself. I was happy enough to snuggle up with the joys of my imagination until it all went away. Still, it’s clearly done some damage.

Perhaps this is why the current day bullies, trolls (whatever you might call them) feel so horrible to me. Perhaps this is why I find it very difficult to wait out the course of their abuse in the hopes that they might one day learn kindness and understanding via the consequences of their bullying ways.

The interesting thing is (and here’s to the absolutely mind boggling paradox of life): I am placing the same judgement on these bullying individuals as they have placed on that poor fellow who just kinda doesn’t believe what they believe. Life, hey. I’ll leave that old chestnut with you to mull over a while.

The nature of the universe is chaos. It is not black and white, and this is where us humans do seem to struggle. We seem to need the polarities and contrasts to help us to fully experience life. The differences in life create experience, and beauty, and deep, deep life.

I just wish deep, deep life was a little gentler, sometimes.

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Every Drop

You think you are one thing.

You are not one thing.

You are the entire ocean.

Take your time,

be every drop.

Categories
Poetry

How Is A Rose To Grow?

A rose to meet the morning bright,

to grow in cheer,

to gather life.

Yet day to day

the rose does wither,

day to day the rose does wither,

lost

beneath the foggy dreary.

Lost.

Beneath.

How is a rose to gather

honey sweet

from deep blue trees?

How is a rose to grow

in the dark

of uncaring

life?

How is a rose to grow?

Categories
Poetry

Some Days

Some days,

even the days that are kind,

(and quite lovely)

feel a deeper shade

of aching life.

And you’ll never know why,

(at least, I never do)

but you might hope

(like me)

that one day the ache will settle

and you will no longer wish

(quite desperately)

for something more.

Or less

(I can never quite tell.)

What did the poets do,

you might ask yourself

(like I do)

and you’ll try desperately to forget

the ones who didn’t make it

all the way.

I will make it all the way,

(this I know)

because I choose life

even when the skies are grey.

For alchemy was the golden lake

of dreamers past.

And dreamers present fill the aching

(world)

with streams of sunshine

and honey milk days.

Shall I fill my own cup

and drink the nectar, sweet?

Shall I ask the golden lake

(of life)

to flow this way

and bring me home?

Categories
Life

The Wilderness

Mmmm.

The wilderness within.

Let her rise

above the soft waves of propriety.

Let her unleash her greatest longings.

Let her fall into the darkest of nights.

Set her free, see her run

beyond form, beyond care,

beyond life.

Let her rise.

Let the wilderness

slowly

rise.