poetry

Sunday poetry for eclipse transformation

Art and poetry by Amara Bronwyn Hollow Bones

We locked up our wisdom into our bones

And swallowed the key


They sank in our rivers of blood

And we forget the maps


Because we had to forget the mysteries

To keep them safe

We wove our hair into brooms

And swept over our paths

And then burned the earth with our rage


We didn’t teach our children

it was the only way to protect them,
we thought


But in them we planted seeds, seeds and keys

And told them stories and riddles and songs

With no roots, just tangled threads

That would take years to unwind


Just enough time

For the rains to fall again

and put out the fires

For the dams to break

For the rivers to flood

For the paths to be walked again

For the soil to breathe

And as the old bones crumble

Deep beneath the rubble

We find we’ve always had the keys


Our stories and our maps

Our paths are revealed to some

And the seeds grow again

The threads are unspun

And woven again


~Amara Bronwyn Hollow Bones

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By |2020-11-29T08:21:56-05:00November 29th, 2020|Inspiration|2 Comments

Sunday poetry for the Retrograde Pause: Waiting

All summer we have been under a heavy retrograde influence which, cooperating with the pandemic, has served to put our lives on pause.  I thought this poem is the perfect piece for where we are right now – nearing the end of the retrograde pause but not quite there yet. ❤️

Waiting

Leza Lowitz

You keep waiting for something to happen,
the thing that lifts you out of yourself,
catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off
the great things you’re meant to do in your life,

but somehow never quite get to.
You keep waiting for the planets to shift

the new moon to bring news,
the universe to align, something to give.

Meanwhile, the pile of papers, the laundry, the dishes the job —
it all stacks up while you keep hoping

for some miracle to blast down upon you,
scattering the piles to the winds.

Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life.
Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.

But all the while, life goes on in its messy way.
And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty…

and some part of you realizes you are not alone
and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom —

when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over,
it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,

and when caterpillar turns to butterfly
if the pupa is brushed, it will die —

and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg
it’s because the thing is too small, too small,

and it needs to break out.
And midlife walks you into that wisdom

that this is what transformation looks like —
the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,

the yearning and writhing and pushing,
until one day, one day

you emerge from the wreck
embracing both the immense dawn

and the dusk of the body,
glistening, […]

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By |2020-10-04T08:44:10-04:00October 4th, 2020|Inspiration|10 Comments

Sunday poetry: One Easy Step to Enlightment

This beautiful poem fits in so perfectly for the times we are living in today.  I hope you enjoy it!


First off, and I do mean first
You know in your heart
that the times are changing
Oh so much slower than we thought
and you know in your heart
that the good guys and the bad guys
don’t know any more than you what’s going on
End of the World?
End of Time?
I’m here to tell you
and yes that is my job
It doesn’t matter.


This moment and only this moment, matter
It is your heart, your very soul
that will shape this moment
and when we, together
Awaken to the idea
that is this moment
we will reach out
without any thought for
what’s in it for us
without any notion of our need
but reach out in one infinitesimal
moment
for no other reason than to
Be
Together
Joined
In the Moment

–Krev Roues

Thanks to Inspiration Peak for this beautiful poem.

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By |2020-08-22T18:32:58-04:00August 23rd, 2020|Inspiration|3 Comments

Sunday Poetry: In the silent breath

photo by Todd Wise

In times like these in which we have very little control over the outcome, finding a space where life still has meaning is critical to our ability to persevere.  This is an excerpt of a wonderful poem from Rumi.

How does a part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?

Don’t try to put out a fire
by throwing on more fire!
Don’t wash a wound with blood!

No matter how fast you run,
your shadow more than keeps up.
Sometimes, it’s in front!

Only full, overhead sun
diminishes your shadow.

But that shadow has been serving you!
What hurts you, blesses you.
Darkness is your candle.
Your boundaries are your quest.

I can explain this, but it would break
the glass cover on your heart,
and there’s no fixing that.

You must have shadow and light source both.
Listen, and lay your head under the tree of awe.

The soul lives there in the silent breath.

Mevlâna Jalâluddin Rumi

from The Essential Rumi, Expanded Edition.

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By |2020-08-08T07:31:05-04:00August 9th, 2020|Inspiration|11 Comments

Sunday poetry: Why not get started immediately

Verius Photography

We are just out of Cancer season, but Mary Oliver wrote this poem when she was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2012.  In these current times, we have been made aware of the finite nature of time and this poem is more relevant than ever. ❤️

The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

1.
Why should I have been surprised?
Hunters walk the forest
without a sound.
The hunter, strapped to his rifle,
the fox on his feet of silk,
the serpent on his empire of muscles—
all move in a stillness,
hungry, careful, intent.
Just as the cancer
entered the forest of my body,
without a sound.

2.
The question is,
what will it be like
after the last day?
Will I float
into the sky
or will I fray
within the earth or a river—
remembering nothing?
How desperate I would be
if I couldn’t remember
the sun rising, if I couldn’t
remember trees, rivers; if I couldn’t
even remember, beloved,
your beloved name.

3.
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.

so why not get started immediately.

I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.

And to write music or poems about.

Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
Bless touching.

You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
Or not.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be urgent as a knife, then,
and remind […]

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By |2020-07-26T07:57:40-04:00July 26th, 2020|Inspiration|2 Comments
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