Coming In, Coming Out

Wanting acceptance

I weave stories in

My mind where I

Win over, connect

And make myself

Both human and perfect

Before those whose acceptance I

Long for.  Filled with

Stories, peace eludes me. 

Thinking and connecting 

In my mind;

Getting my body ready

To give the gift of

Baring my soul to 

Strangers, so that other

People like me may

Walk through life at ease.

A Cup Of Sadness

I hold a cup of sadness,

While drinking deep of hope;

I teeter on the cliffs dark edge,

While climbing destiny’s rope;

How can the truth be blurry,

When thinking seems so sure?

How can a cry of loneliness

Be counted as a cure?

I only know the next thing 

That floats across my eyes

Will surely be the last thing

That nourishes my life.

Out of The Darkness

"Out of the darkness",

Said the muse,

Into the lightly

Held moment.  

Even the dead have

No time anymore and

The living can’t tell

If it’s real.

"Out of the darkness"

Said the guru,

Follow me to the lightly

Proved theorem.

But all the while

The pulses of blood

Coursing hot veins

Of desire clouded

The result.  Light

Evades transfixed eyes.

"Out of the darkness",

Said the silence,

Is only a way station 

To the next sleep where

Active minds relive

The dance of light.

On Gratitude

Sometimes I’m so grateful

For my life, I

Could cry because

I can’t hold the  joy and 

Wonder in 

This little mind,

This little body.

Sometimes I feel so

Tired I would not

Complain if God

Called me home now.

Is there a time I didn’t know?

When truth wasn’t there ringing my

Doorbell and leaving messages on my phone?

Looking back I can only smile at how

Blind I could be, how deaf

To the calling of my own soul.

On Leaving

Take me away mother

And leave home to

The sad people who

Can’t escape their web.

I struggled so long

And left each new 

Place to preserve my

Childish sanity.

It’s only in the light 

Of walking the spiral

From each new landing

That I can finally see

What I carried with me

That I no longer need.

Three Me's

Wanting acceptance

I weave stories in

My mind where I

Win over, connect

And make myself

Both human and perfect

Before those whose acceptance I

Long for.  Filled with

Stories, peace eludes me.  

Thinking and connecting 

In my mind;

Getting my body ready

To give the gift of

Baring my soul to 

Strangers, so that other

People like me may

Walk through life at ease.

Quiet mind today,

Who knows what will

Show up as I walk my way.

I wish to be here,

Living deeply and

Planning well only

What I must.

On Returning

Go down the mountain,

But don’t run.

You’ll miss the flowers along the way,

Maybe even trample them,

And get a skinned knee

For your troubles.  

For all the work it took

To reach the summit,

All the stumbles, falls

And scratched shins,

For all the exhilaration of

Being at the top,

Seeing forever,

Being above the dark clouds

Bathed in the brightest

Sunlight there is,

Much yet is to be

Missed by hurrying

On the way down.

The valley floor, after all,

Will wait for you.

After The Quandary, The Rent

This morning I

Emailed my quandary.

It stared back as 

Though it didn’t hear

My rumbling stomach or

See my faint smile.

Arguably, I haven’t either

A rational basis for my

Thinking,

Or a mystery to

My soul.  But then

So what?  Arguably

I'm not even here.

What’s the fun in that?

I have grown to

Like my confusion, 

Thank you, and

To cherish the 

Way I flitter about.

And now for

The rent.

The Graven Image

Isn’t a graven image

Something you worship 

Carved of wood or stone?

Then I lived 60 years as

My own graven image:

The man, wooden and frozen 

To prevent the spontaneous woman

From popping out at

Inopportune moments;

The worship of armor

Surely strong enough

To keep away the

Feared feminine spirit;

The incantations and prayers

To a false god desperately

Invoked to ward off the nymph.

Ahh, release, and truth;  

Be my friend.

The Dance of Endings

If endings are also beginnings,

Then I’ve begun, again, many times.

I think the trick is to focus on

The endings as you climb

Just high enough to see,

From in your family tree,

The story that you’ll tell,

From where you then dwell,

Enough to make the next beginning

Stumble less and

Dance more.

The Question

When I was a baby my dreams were reality,

The womb cast me forth and all was love.

When I was a child my reality became a dream;

I was torn from the womb and the world became

A confusing movie with someone pretending

To be my mother.

When I was made a boy my reality became a

Nightmare and I tried to find a stable

Place to stand. I only found it in my mind,

And I could no longer feel my body.

When I became a man I was running from

Stage to stage trying to find the right role, but

The lines never felt real.

When I broke through the thin veil, peeled away

The armor and awoke from the dream, I knew

I was Emily And the ground became solid, the

Dream became real and the answers woke up to

Settle into the soft arms of

The question.