My Turn

We are coming upon
My turn
It is almost time
For my turn
Soon, there will be no interruption
Soon, that bubble will form
Golden, full of light
Surrounding me
In sacred space
And yes, it will be full of angels
And yes, fairies too
And they will be whispering in my ear:
This is your time
This is your space
To make your art
To make your start
To close the door
And take the floor
In the imaginative world
Of my own making
Of infitine blessings
And waves to behold
Of deep rooted stories
Waiting to be told
Many years
I have spent
Saying:
Yes, Ma'am
Or
Sure, Sir
Many years I have spent
Looking up at mom
Wondering
Are you proud?
Am I good enough?
Did I do it right?
That girl is grown
That new moon has shone
This snake has just about shed its skin
And soon
I will carve out
A sacred space
For me
To make
My art
And I will start
That book I know
That poetry flow
That reasonable hour
Of clock-ticking power
Where I will make the beauty of GOD!
Again and again
The way only I can
In this one life
With this one chance
To put my poem on the page
All of my guilt
The last of my rage
The inspiring sage
She is me
And I am she
Infinite goddess
As deep as the sea
Tell me!
Is it my turn, yet?

Weeds in the Heart

My beloveds look at me and say

How are you?

I smile, and know that they love

But how does one create the depth of a vast ocean

Inside the constraints of our words?

How can I paint you a picture of the caverns and caves inside?

I wish I could open up my chest when you ask how I am

And let you dive in and swim around for awhile

And then greet you at the end, on a nice beach, with a drink

And say, "So what did you see? How am I? What should I say when people ask?"


These days there are no words

For the renovation of my heart

An old love is moving out

Making space for the new

And I know

All change is helpful

But in this vacancy

There is raw, exposed flesh

So I protect it

It is my greatest jewel

And I wait for magic moments to pull back the covers

And reveal its light

The past:

Like a weed pulled from the ground

You know it must go

For the growth of something more bountiful

But it is this expunging of life

This tearing up and out

Which leaves a hole, in the ground

Or in this case, my heart

And the ripping of flesh

Is painful

And sometimes it feels lonely

Sad

I mean, come on folks, where are we? what the fuck is going on?? I am spinning in a vast universe and I don't get it...

And so I settle in and feel my body

I look upon this sadness and ask:

From where do you come?

Are you really mine?

And I realize there are old pictures

Energy from parents that is not mine

In my space

About what love is

Of how it should be

And I blow them

It is just energy

And here, now, I can ground into present time

Fill up on me

Know that all roads lead to Rome

Which really means

We are on our way home

I am not alone

This separateness is not true

Like a pilgrim

Weary from travel

I let go of my way

And know

Thy Will Be Done!


So if you ask me how I am

Know that when I say,"Good."

It really means that I am growing a new heart

That I am tender like a newborn

That I am making a fresh start

That weeds have been pulled from my garden

I feel like I am missing a limb

I am grappling with death

I am letting go of everything

I am trusting that all will come to me

I need do nothing

I belong to source

Do you get all that when I just say, "Good?"