The lost poet has never before visited 
a night like this on earth.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  ~Kahlil Gibran

Forty-Six and Two ahead of me….

“I wanna feel the change consume me, feel the outside turning in.  I wanna feel the metamorphosis and cleaning I’ve endured within. My shadow, change is coming. Now it’s my time…”

I had an amazing meditation session last night, unexpectedly.  I was able to will my body to feel externally, what I was experiencing within my mind.  Honestly, I felt as though I was completely open to the rhythm of the universe, able to take in positive vibrations and use them corporeally.  I willed my body to do as I desired and it responded amazingly.

Astonished at what can be accomplished if you can get to that place of complete understanding with the universe.

“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”

photo by This Too Shall Pass Photography

Bluebird

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going

to let anybody see

you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he's

in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to mess

me up? 

you want to screw up the

works? 

you want to blow my book sales in

Europe? 

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night sometimes

when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be

sad.

then I put him back,

but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him

die

and we sleep together like

that

with our

secret pact

and it's nice enough to

make a man

weep, but I don't

weep, do

you? 

Charles Bukowski

“my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping

but

I shall go on living.” 

― Pablo Neruda

With his venom ....

With his venom 

irresistible 

and bittersweet 

that loosener 

of limbs, Love 

reptile-like 

strikes me down 

~Sappho

“Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own webs from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch”

I am the answer

You are the words I’ve left unsaid

In a whisper

I give myself to you

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes they roar back again.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

mi corazon

There were the ones that broke my heart-

The ones that teased it, poked it, prodded it.

The ones who ran away, hacking off pieces of it

As souvenirs. 

Then there were the ones who cupped it in their hands-

Stroked it, molded it, held it to their lips

And breathed new life into it.

It may be scarred and weathered

By time and the hands of those

Who came before this moment

But it is mine.   

photo by This Too Shall Pass Photography

And that clock 

whose sound 

was 

the voice of our lives, 

the secret 

thread of our weeks, 

which released 

one by one, so many hours 

for honey and silence 

for so many births and jobs, 

that clock also 

fell 

and its delicate blue guts 

vibrated 

among the broken glass 

its wide heart 

unsprung. 

Pablo Neruda

And all the words

That you have said

Fall about my feet

Gathering dust. 

There was a point

When I believed-

(when I would sweep them up into little organized piles

and dust off the lies).

I could almost convince myself 

They were true

And that

You

Would change.

the weight of the world....

I might not be a size 0.  I am not overly confident in my outward appearance.  I am often jealous of other people’s positive self-esteem.  I am clumsy, forgetful and a clutter-bug.  I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I love meeting people but often come across as pushy due to my enthusiasm for human interaction. When I am sad, I am excessively sad but when I am happy, I am ecstatic for life.  I get too excited sometimes and embarrass myself.  I am awkward, confusing and sometimes irrational.  I am a worrier.  I don’t stand up for myself and let people walk all over me.  I don’t give myself enough credit. I take too much to heart.  I open myself wholeheartedly to others and don’t understand why I get hurt so often.  I am painfully shy at times and excessively outgoing at other times.  I have too much empathy for other living things.  I want to heal and fix everyone else.  I hold onto regrets and grudges.  I consider myself an intelligent person and love learning and sharing new things with people but have been told I come across as a know it all at times.  I am an extreme procrastinator.  I share my feelings too openly when I shouldn’t and hide them when I should share them.  I have some health issues I tend to vent about though people get annoyed with hearing it.  I am indecisive, confusing and sensitive.  Sometimes, I wear my mask well.  I beat myself up over the smallest things.  I am an artist, a poet, a lover of nature, a wife, a daughter, a friend.  I love too much.  I am emotional.

I am learning to accept the woman I have become and hope you will too. 

This is me, take me as I am. 

“It is easier to gnaw through bone Than the hide of the heart”

photo copyright This Too Shall Pass Photography

The Coming of Light

by Mark Strand

Even this late it happens:

the coming of love, the coming of light. 

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, 

stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, 

sending up warm bouquets of air.

Even this late the bones of the body shine 

and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

You know that place between sleep and awake? The place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you...

Today I woke up to the distant rumbling of thunder-

rolled over and immediately

felt your absence.

 

The power flickered

in time with my racing heart.

 

Clutching the sheets-white knuckled-

my fingers grasped for something,

Anything

to anchor me.

 

The ceiling fractured

and the rain seeped through the hole

in my heart, filling me.

 

Thunder rolled across time and space

echoing throughout my being.

 

Invisible illness

 It’s so hard to describe an ‘invisible illness’ to someone who thinks you look fine on the outside (be it mental pain or internal chronic pain.)

All you know is you hurt and you cannot always put on a smile and pretend you are ok for the sake of those around you. 

Some days are easier than others but sometimes the façade cracks and the pain steals out of that carefully constructed mask.

Your breath

(The air between two star systems)

Fills my lungs

Exposing the depth of my being.

Constellations orbit about me

Swirling me into their

Starry embrace. 

Running my fingers along the ghost

Of your absence

I

Am hollow.

This space

You once occupied

Is empty -

A human shaped hole

Within me.

I reach deep inside

The recesses of my soul

Fingering bone, muscle and sinew-

Grasping for meaning.

(It will take time for her body to process the loss)

and the clock ticks

as the brain powers down

synapses fire in rapid succession 

reminding me...

i am still alive. 

but a breath....

photo copyright This Too Shall Pass Photography

And though the feelings have become

Quieter

I cannot help

But be reminded

That once

They meant the world

To me.

This is what it feels like....

a struggling bird

wings beating violently against

the walls of my chest cavity

beak grinding against bone

searching for a way out

of this