poetry – crafts from the honey pot

times like these

In the best of times, I feel invincible. I am planted firmly into the earth, my roots extending warm embrace after warm embrace.

In the best of times, I am fearless. I ride the waters in flow, with the sun and the moon, following my charted course.

In the best of times, time belongs to me. I manipulate it as I choose, but always out of honor and never out of spite. The ticking of the clock hastens the hum of my heart.

But in the worst of times, I feel frail. Pieces of me flutter and chip away in hurried gusts. I am wrecked. I am reckless.

And in the worst of times, I am not my own friend. To her, I whisper words that wash away those parts that glimmer in the sun.

Still, in the worst of times, my humanity remains. Those parts that ache and bleed stubbornly and with relentless, unnerving awareness.

And through those times, I realize the irony of choice and the sting of circumstance buried in my beautiful bones. Though they have broken, they are strong. They carry me through the next step.

groundhog day

Wake up. Skim emails. Get out of bed. Greet cat. Feed cat. Brush teeth. Wash face. Start the kettle. Scoop the litter box. Sweep the floor. Pour the coffee. Turn on the computer. Respond to emails. Take a yoga break. Attend meetings. Catch up on news. Respond to emails. Make lunch. Attend meetings. Respond to emails. Respond to emails. Respond to emails. Make dinner. Respond to emails. Play with cat. Feed cat. Shower. Brush teeth. Skim emails. Go to bed.

Vision

see me
for the joy in my song
and not because I sing to you

On Gratitude

I’d like to think
if given the chance,
I’d do it again;
not having grazed
that impossible knowledge,
not having glimpsed
that immeasurable treasure
of fortitude once unfound;
to freely weep dry
those tears of toil and blood of salt,
and while I grimace
at the thought of reliving
my forbidden story,
I take pride in knowing 
that ultimately,
it is mine.

when is it

time will escape--
that intangible wealth,
that unstoppable halt,
that undercurrent,
which carries all and buries nothing.
time will bend;
time will stretch;
time will know;
time is now;
time is here.

In loving memory of Kuya Rey.

vigil

I saw it in the fire
A flame ignited
Ravaging through the stale
Relentless in face of ordinary breath
I saw it in the fire
Refusing to quiet
Resisting the scorn of unspoken darkness
It flares even brighter
I see it in the fire
I see it in the fire
I see it in the fire

for ester

take a right at the tree
with a bend at the elbow
don’t forget to lower your head
for the branch that swings west
you’ll find a path paved
with the crimson of iron
it will lead to a crawl space
that expands with new breath

Hoh Rainforest in Olympic National Park, Washington

desert run

find me
where the road meets the sky
where dust dances with air
where limits dissolve
where time roams free

Shadow Play

Tell me, shadow,
Where are you going?
Tell me, shadow,
What do you see?
Tell me, shadow,
How do you hide?
Tell me, shadow,
When will you come out to play?

everyday achievement

[today’s date]:
Amid the shadows
I faced the sun.
That’s good for now.