my cells, formed by love, are questioning

when the earth began to crumble

and the people fell inside

i looked for you.

did we once swim in the seas?

or have i/we/you always been alone? lost?

lost in our foundness? found in our lostness?

as the dirt and ashes

mixed with salty tears

and clots of blood

my pupils turned to pulses

and my eyes to hearts

when will we learn to soar?

or is the path to sink?

who taught the world to suffer?

my cells, formed by love, are questioning

unable to understand

the wondrous beauty

and the deep, immense pain

love the world, my children

love, love, love

veins and flows

colored pencil in progress

source

we are animals

mountain ram in progress

started 9, January 2010

the raven

9, January 2010

apology

apology

i want to write you a poem
a poem to explain
how my body feels anxious
with the uncertainty of 
our left conversation
i don't know what to say
or how to say it
or how to translate these
anxious pulses to pen

how come saying i'm sorry
is difficult?
how do we learn to apologize 
for causing pain?
how do i tell you and
have you believe
that i would never change you?
that i would never wish for you to be louder
or less of your quiet 
and sensitive self?
how do i communicate to you
that i meant what i wrote
when i told you of my disappointments,
but never with the intention
of creating more anger and hurt?

why is telling the truth so hard?
and why is telling the truth to ourselves even harder?
why is listening to the truth
from others ever-challenging still?

beyond the letter, and the words, 
and the struggles to listen and form 
the feelings and thoughts,
this is my message:
i am sorry, i still see you for you
but sometimes, my loneliness speaks
and there are sides of me,
like there are parts of you,
as there are spaces within all of us,
that are not always filled with brightness.

i am flawed, this i know,
and perhaps it is better that you too 
have now seen this 
but, in my heart there is not hatred,
only disappointment that the world
is as it is
and love does not flow freely,
that time and circumstances
pasts and fears
insecurities and pains
too often take control over our bodies 
and tell our minds the 
possible is impossible.

i've always wanted to see you,
as i long to see the world, 
in its fullest form,
freed from the walls that divide 
and entrap. 

this poem is not meant 
to tell you what you should do
or who you should be
or dwell on my hopes for the earth.
the purpose of this poem is
to apologize to you for anything
that caused pain and anger
and to show you that I, too,
am still learning.

26, December 2009

the sea

the sea rages

and the sea is still. 

we sit by the shore,

jump in the waves,

listen to the wonder of the comings

and the goings

and we love it

regardless of the times we are afraid

because it is beautiful

it is life

and it is still.

even in the wildness of its thunder,

its stillness is there.

the power terrifies us,

but those of us who are strong 

see the calmness beyond/amidst the rage,

the grace that accompanies the demons.

yet, the weak will turn 

and never return to the sea.

they will miss the storms, protected,

but they will also miss the wonder

of the sun on the water,

the fish, the sand, the exhilaration of

knowing the strength beyond ourselves.

i am like the sea.

i rage with tears and

words that sting

i stumble, thrown about as in a rush

i sit and i breath

and i dance through the tides

the cyclical tides

the frustrating times

the peaks and the depths

the wishing for balance

the willing to stop,

the longing for a straight line.

and yet, beyond the hoping and the wishing,

the circles continue,

the swirling and the twists

the coiling round and round

the ups and downs

will never stop

not as long as the waves continue to reach the shore,

as the waves disappear back into the sea,

as the sand is pulled and shifted,

and the shells revealed,

a small reminder of the treasures we have not seen,

but remember from the times when we too 

lived amongst the wild and free.

remember creatures, the water has never left us.  

26, December 2009

the functioning lungs/death

what is it like to die?

to know that in mere moments

none of this will be?

that you will never again see

her face or kiss his lips

or touch these sheets softly against your hands?

that every moment of your life

will vanish

to know the mass of flesh will 

lie there

sagging skin

organs to be cut open and examined

by someone who never knew you

funerals planned

put into the ground

or body burned by flames

lots of crying people

no one knowing what to say

breaths further apart

loosing ability to move arms and legs

eyes closed

difficult to open

slowed breath

maybe those you love are there

or maybe they already died

do you hear anything?

feel anything?

know anything new?

is there anything in that moment that never was before that moment?

what does your blood feel like?

and your breath?

what do you think?

if you are unconscious, do you know that death is near?

or any of these things?

do you know what it is to die?

to be moments from not existing in the 

world in this way?

do you think of your parents?

or your mother when she birthed you?

or the way you were conceived?

or your children?

or the moments they were conceived?

or your god?

or your love?

or your mistakes?

or is it just the immediate pain?

the fewer and farther between breaths?

do you know none of the rest of this at all?

are you scared?

are you free?

or panicked? 

can this ever be shared with someone else?

do you know the end of life

more than the beginning?

or are we like the brand new baby pushed out

of the mother's womb

covered in blood and liquids

and tears

and gasping for breath

and with no memory yet

knowing nothing but the

sensations of 

life

the heat, the lack of heat

the air

the functioning lungs

the crying out

the clinging to our mother

being held by another?

18 december 2009

this i

pain sometimes takes a hold of me

like staring at

blue veins and

wishing they would bleed

release

this anxiousness i feel

pulsating in my

contracting, constricting, contracting, constricting

why can't i leave the past?

why can't i shed that time, those places, 

those things, those ways?

why do they stay in me, cling to me,

tighten in my thought and

pressure in my head

even tears won't release me

how do i learn to crawl out of this

dark and damp cave?

how do i shed this skin and 

grow fresh?

or not even grow fresh...there is 

nothing i want to retain

i want to be a new, but not even

a new

i want to not be i

no have no concept of i

no memory of i

no thoughts of i

this i that knew you

who knew me

i was i

and never knew me or

god or love or anything

i still don't know anything

thats why i want to be 

a bird or a tree

or the wind

yes, the wind

or anything, anything

but this i

this trapped i

this constricted i

this i that reads horoscopes 

looking for hope

or reassurance

or some kind of meaning

this i that no longer picks up books

this i that is tired of the world as it is

tired of hoping for better

tired of knowing that will never happen

tired of loneliness

and tired of everyday, ever moment

trying to teach myself

how to relax, be love, be free, be positive with

the people around me

tired of trying to be free and heal

i no longer want this i

i want to be a bird that flies away

the bird you see in the sky for a moment

and then never again in your life

a fish lost in the depth of the water

that scientists have never created a ridiculous name

to be called and categorized and found and studied

and drawn into their constructed reality

of the world as they alone see it

with all the meaning created by what it means for us

how we see it, feel it, think it, how it impacts us

yes, i want to be that fish that has never been seen by the human eye

that is still free creation 

swimming in the waters, the cool and warm waters, the currents

tied to the moon

twirling with the stars 

want to feel the water on my skin

don't want to feel this weight

trapped by this weight

clothed in this weight

defined by this weight

feel bad about this weight

i want to swim free

fly free

soar in the waters and the skies free

leave this world for the forest or the sea

a place where no human being has ever seen

and when i die not ask what happened or

didn't happen or if i lived or loved

fully enough

this i is stuck in thoughts

this i is lost

this i knows too much and nothing at all

this i wears a mask

that the birds have never ever imaged is

necessary or possible

never questioning

content with, no, not even aware 

of questioning 

their feathers and scales

18 december 2009

the best vibration is love

I need to be free.

A relationship should make us

more free-

more able to be

to be

and to be free love

 free imagination

 free exploration

free to be a body

soft, warm, wounded, trying to heal,

with sometimes strained breaths

and a flickering heart

like a window not sure whether

to close 

or open

I need to be love

to lay in the earth

to touch the skins of the trees

to have my head held 

by the soil

and my eyes closed

no longer afraid

the sun shines

warming

and i am unafraid

no longer holding tight in my neck

no longer straining my face to

say don't fuck me

don't hurt me

don't break me down because of this

open vulnerability

just love me

like this earth holds my head

warm

and this sun holds my skins

and the wind holds my ears

as the sweetest sound i've heard

peace is being free in this world

free means being open

open means vulnerable

vulnerable means having faith

faith means recognizing the entirety of universe

recognition means shrinking and also expanding

in the divine fluidity that flows within us all

this fluidity is energy

energy is vibrations,

and the best vibration is love. 

9 December 2009