Goodbye 2014

Gifts of the year
miracles
terrible and wonderous.
life always is this,
it is everything big and small.
walk with me through the new year.
take my hand,
we have so many journeys left to make.

And so it begins . . .

sit beside me as the fog lifts off the water
we have weathered this much
     
          ~ and even more than this~

you hold all the days inside your silver brain.
you wish for food and call it up from the
deep cells nestled inside of sleeping skin.

stealing seeds from the feeder and planting
them inside the earth, this is your forgetful garden.

it took me so many days to find my courage,
but I smile, because I see how easily you find your own.
your rainbow voice, dissects the grey distress.

you call forward the words and they spill, threading
promises into dark corners of thin days.  They
do not pool in your throat, they do not become
a moat beckoning the cruel, hungry serpent.

you will not need a knife to set
your heart free.

you are not violet practiced at fading ~
here let's learn the rules to a new game.

run with the sun settling into your skin,
it will change your colours.  waking up
the moon, stirring the tide.  open your
arms wide, crash into each new moment
with a story spinning inside your mouth,

with a joyous heart, build your days.

no one else is the carpenter.

when the days grow short, you are the
only storyteller left beside the hearth.

here in the soft edge
of the blood moon,
i hold you inside
my alice mind.

i have coconut bruises
on my black leather knees.

i have seen the angel song,
felt it push out of my
stitched together throat.

it is not what you might think.

it is mighty and fearful.

it left me rendered, shambling ~
humbled and beautifully reduced.

it is sunlight flame, burning
all the demons away ~ melting
carefully fashioned masks.

it is a wake that leaves no
stone unturned.

it is not something wise men seek,

it is found only through the truly
turned turmoil of a tender soul.

when we walk with angels, our
eyes burn bright, skin glowing in
the dark ~ touch us and we burn,
turning lies inside out, truth
lays delicate and opened wide.

we are fearsome creatures, stone
in our bones and stars in our blood.

every morning, in air where moonlight
and sunlight come to mingle,

i fill her copper kettle with water from
the well, and bring a morning
prayer to the herbs and flowers.

the hawk and heron come as well.
every day they tell me winged stories,

they teach me how to lay beauty
into the bones of reality.

we remember her, we recite her name.

she would sit in the small house,
the world to her back, and stitch
together small promises ~

she would remember the red-winged
blackbird.
she would wish for the black rose,
red stigma.

I wear her moon face around my neck,
over the scar, over the place where the
end of the world was born and where a
new world was imagined.

in the spring, into a new earth,
I planted her garden ~

hibiscus, lavender, rosemary, sage, forsythia,
three rose bushes for our roaming Alice.
lilacs, basil, blueberries, crape myrtle.

in firefly light she gave the garden back to me.

I share it with my silver daughter,
two wild cats,
a gentle man.

but her voice emanates from
the flowers and the bee hum.
her eyes sparkle in dragonfly wing,
her spirit scents the air on tip of
butterfly flight.















every night, as the moon takes shape in a flurry
of bat wing and cicada song,

I take his hand, and we walk into the hills,
I look over the land down to where the
river rolls and say,

"I love this copper-kettle life."

He sends me a warm look, squeezes my
hand and smiles ~ "you say that every night"

and every night, it is true ~

once upon a time,
paradise surrounded a quiet sound.
- i -
alone in a lavender field.

no one could hear my beating heart.

save
     the sparrow that came to
eat seed from my open hand.

save
     the migrating whales,
singing to me below
sunset cliff.

i had known a long winter,
pushed down, held under water
for so long, i could not remember
the taste of air, the sting of oxygen
burning red in my blood.

but

the sea will not drown me.

she is my mother, my sister,
she will only send me home
with a strong story etched into my bones.

the ones
with iron will and cruel hands
hold a miscalculated promise.

their fortune
crumbles under purple skies,
their lies exposed in
lightening flash.

i am mermaid, remembering
the storm.

i am the sparrow whisper on
top of the whale song.

sometimes all you can do is celebrate ~

oh happy summer, lead us into a fall full of golden harvests!

he just thinks he doesn't know how to dance 13.   Glory Bound ~ The Wailin' Jennys

Beware, my daughter, of the robber fly.  I have killed a mating pair on the stoop of our cottage.  They have somewhat the look of a dragonfly - they appear both innocent and sinister, it is not easy to know which nature is true.  They have large eyes and a body that is streamline and graceful.  Their wings are the wings of wasp.  They are faster than a lightening flash.  The first time I felt one hit my face and fall to the ground, I looked at it and took pity on it because of its dragonfly look, although I knew without a doubt that it was not a dragonfly.  I would not kill it because I did not know that it did harm.  And even though it hit me in the face and left a welt, I picked up its body and threw it flying into the wind.  I would have done what needed to be done, if I had known what it would do next.

You know how the hummingbirds flock to the hibiscus?  The fiery blooms draw in butterflies, bees and humming birds with their musky, sweet scent.  I watched as a robber fly flung itself at one of our hummingbirds.  Just as it had thrown itself at my face, it flew with terrible intensity into the hummingbird, as the hummingbird struggled and as I yelled and ran to intervene the robber fly kept attacking over and over until the hummingbird lay motionless on the ground.

I scooped up the little iridescent body, it lay motionless and inanimate in the palm of my hand.  I created a bed of hibiscus leaves for it at the foot of the Mary and wrapped it in a bloom.  I will bury it once the night has set in, and the full moon shines clarity down onto the darkened Earth.

Once I had done what could be done for our sweet, hapless hummingbird,  I looked around the house for any trace of the robber fly and found two, not one, on our front stoop.  First one and the other flew at my face, catching up and pulling my hair.  I flew with great speed to protect myself, gathered up a scrap of wood the tinkerer had left behind and I swiftly and without remorse protected our hummingbirds, our butterflies and bees from any future harm.  And when I was done, I scooped up the robber flies' bodies and have sketched their form below so that you can absorb this picture and know them should you see in any in your travels.  This way, you will be less ignorant than your mum.



The most dangerous things in life, will deceive you first with their sweetness or allure and then they will sting and kill when you believe yourself to be safe.  Be less wary the wasp, as it wears its nature on its sleeve.  Be wary the robber fly and waste no time in debating its true nature.  For now you know the truth.  Let my mistake be your lesson ~

But if you should need to learn this lesson for yourself?  I will always love you, no matter what mistakes you make.  It is my wish and hope, though, that your mistakes will be your own and that they will not be mine.

Safe travels, my love, I hope they lead you home soon!