Categories
Poetry

The Stories We Tell

The stories we tell ourselves

about what life

is,

does,

means,

will make our hearts

or break our hearts.

The choice,

I suppose,

is ours.

Make, break

or both, sometimes.

If only the answer were simple.

Then again…

what is simple?

Categories
Poetry

Sleep

Oh, weary soul.

I barely see you behind those tired eyes.

Let us rest, deeply,

beautifully,

with compassion

for all life has given, harshly.

It is a darling life.

A life to be cherished

with each breath of our aching day.

I sleep, now,

knowing morning matters

only when it greets me.

I sleep, now.

I sleep, now.

Categories
Life

The Cookie

We spend a great deal of our lives being afraid of the cookie, don’t we?

Too much sugar, too much fat, too much cookie induced shame (note to self, and the world: shame causes more damage than the cookie.)

If only we’d take a moment to just…love the cookie.

Just love it, and eat it.

It is a beautiful creation, gifted to the world by someone who understood that it was okay to enjoy our humanity while we are here on earth.

I’m no longer afraid of the cookie, and because of this my whole life has changed. The black soot of fear no longer owns every choice I make.

I just love the cookie. I love the cookie, and live my life being aware of any cookie danger, but not afraid.

I eat the cookie slowly.

The beauty of life is in the cherishing of it.

Photo by Tina Nord on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

The Consciousness of Plants

The garden is abundant with Calla Lillies.

There is something about them that I know, something that speaks to me through the softness and sway of their leaves and sweeping, cupped petal.

Theirs is an energy much like the soft breeze of spring that I love so much. It is an energy elegant but dear, and I know that I am that. I know I am that very same softness.

I am not a vegetarian, nor am I a vegan, although I care deeply for animals and respect them just as much as I do the human folk I share a table with. I’ll eat the animals, though, because plants are also alive and must be sacrificed in order for my body to consume them. That consciousness lives within plants does not seem a far out idea for me to accept…because I feel every inch of their life.

Plants, trees, flowers, herbs… I believe they are all very much alive, and as conscious as you or I. Live a day within my skin. I assure you, you would believe, too.

Our limbs grow without us consciously commanding them to. So do those of plants.

We become diseased without consciously intending to, sometimes with death the end result. So do plants.

I eat plants because I have to, just as I eat meat because I have to.

I don’t take either for granted.

Life is beautiful life, down here on this great big spinning rock of ours.

I cherish every curve.

Photo by Nico Becker on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

All My Softness

I am home when the beautiful song of my heart is at peace.

There is nothing loud, here, nothing beyond the birds and the rippling pools of shadow on brick.

I am just me, in all of my softness.

Me, in this beautiful place, home.

I have loved tenderly, here.

I will always love tenderly.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Categories
Life

Heaven On Earth

My soul held the music, and we were one.

There is no other way to describe it but that heaven exists on earth, and for several moments, I was there.

There is a beautiful tender song from Aladdin, where Aladdin sings about being ‘just a poor boy,’ unwanted and unloved.

When I was a child, this scene broke me in two.

It still does because it speaks to a place deep within.

A place that’s says:

Oh, my goodness, I see you.

Now, as I listen to the song there is a new sort of beauty to its lyrical tenderness.

I feel the music, it tells the story as deeply as the words.

It is as if the music itself is conscious.

It is as if the music itself cares.

The way it swells with empathy. The way it rises and falls and twists with aching.

It is heaven on earth.

And I am here, with beautiful music.

And the beautiful love it sings to me.

Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

The Orchard

As I sit quietly, alone,

with the birds as my friends,

I watch the orchard

sway with the breeze

and I ask myself:

Is it the orchard, alone, I see?

Or has the orchard become

the miraculous creation

of the wind?

Categories
Poetry

Seasons

And when there is sun

such as this,

and when there is beautiful drift

and swaying trees,

I see life as it is

and I know it is good.

For, the mind, I know

tells stories.

And yet

perfect truth

is this touch of fresh air.

Just another season.

Another precious season

of darling life.

Categories
Poetry

A Gift

As if

to fall asleep in the arms of another

could be anything less than a gift

to be cherished.

Life and her beautiful pages;

how precious she is,

indeed,

for the sweetness of it.

Categories
Poetry

Darling and Delight

I see nothing but darling

and delight

in all things.

For the aches are there

to be held

by the beauty

that is love.

And the joys

rocket to the sky

on wings of their own.

Is this not heaven where I lie?

What sweeter perfection

might the illusion

of some other day

bring?