rua

one night i walked through a door and never came back. 

i reach to unfurl the red stamped white cloth hanging in a procession with other symbolic flags attached to twine. they blow with the strong in between desert winds. stars elude me with mystery and comfort. coyotes celebrate something, fill the dark air with a togetherness song. i read he shot arrows into a blank sky and created constellations. animals above, animals below. how then do we ever lose our honor? tact and grace? an easement, a healing explosion. i am so tired. i am angry. i am gentle. i am giving. one small candle connects me to all that is. there is a red wagon, hammocks, stripes, trees to climb.

dr. suess tells about society, our limitations, our poetry. do we wait because of our belief, perception, a hunch. i spent the whole afternoon talking to the crossroads. today we rest, tomorrow may become similar, subtle or sensational.

i am sorry for straying so far beyond your hurt. overwhelm has been isolating.

do i feel a crystal is memorable. my children cough. the dishwasher squeaks. fervently cycles. the cleansing phase.  

surveillance

a pride of lions surround the house, cedar, chalk hearts. 

my list reads,

Eggs

Avos 

Gruyère 

Clementines

Treat 

Comfort

she digs under the pink blanket. there is a rainbow afghan. if i want to surround myself with colours, spirit nods yes. thoughts are a flurry catching strands of information, sometimes too much. if we are satiably stimulated do we simultaneously feel content? i can paint the walls blue and turquoise, peach, an ancient white and dream of a place where my bare body robed in flowers will enjoy the heat. my skin is hot, a room without windows open, a jungle evaporating under our sun as i experience the procession of time. age, feminine nature.  a transition of the moon and my life.

 

i am, nourished. talking stones submerge in a deep old river. mother to the land, etching stories giving sustenance. light here, rapture. it announces itself to my soul.

i want to escape to thousand year old walls leading from a pilgrimage of an inner world. 

move my form with care and great tact.

i take photos to know beauty again at peace. my pup and i wander through wintered willows aware and winding along the rio grande. serenity is a word that catches my attention curious about discovery. 

untitled

when i think about the star, it is harmony where a tranquility grows our garden. peace and contentment among the wilderness of living. our timelines are commonplace, strangers, completely aligned. we miss each other, we try again. maybe we are rich soil, perhaps we are like water. 

just noticing a small thing, can change the trajectory. i suppose we ask for where we want betterment in the world. 

my son sleepily wanders into the room i am writing in, blows out a quiet candle. children are a miraculous lunacy. space and boundaries are liquid butterflies. love is expandable. 

mystic walrus, honey, daydream. 

to |deserve||dēservīre||devote oneself to the service of|

stag and the ancient

how does it start? a beautiful painting, a vacant spiritual dwelling, a staircase. broken, mended, rising. for me it’s music. writing. high in the night sky. 

time to think and look out a window, a gift while i snack on chocolate in all the pretty scenery, my children roam their dreams. we see an observatory, shamanic caves, carved doorways to a distant time, a winding path through winter, antlers reaching for the great expanse. a snaking sunset river.

listen to the light ! the canyon demands our attention. a mirrored waterway, deep blue backdrop, gold draped everywhere. vision, space and soul. we may move swiftly though time wants us steady, slow. 

ecological release

bergamot baths London fog earl grey tea 

these invoke a deep sense 

of knowing 

somewhere comfortable

uplifting.

chasing the cosmos 

with receptivity. 

the last time i loved you

a pack of wild dogs ran free 

alleyways led to treasure chests

verdant paths meandered up active volcanoes cloaked in snow

the calypte anna stays through all seasons finding sanctity in enduring everything as home

vocal, buzzing

still

the mirages in vast desert spaces even catch my children’s eyes.

eternal bloom

sometimes there are many doors that open wide all at once down an infinite corridor. sometimes things feel caught in a net of disharmony. i am looking for the garden of our relationship. an eternal bloom while juxtaposing cycles of life. if we are made of patterns we have the key. sometimes it gets loud in here, with anger and wandering. flashes of images that need to nourish me gently haunt until i am in a salt bath with warm light, with beautiful women singing. do you ever wonder why things can’t stay the same. how we are attached to comets blazing across our universe, networking through roots underground, is the soil the past or future. each of us creation. why stars are children. that’s who i talked to as i searched the sky through tall giants every night, meeting the precise return of belonging. a flood, a fire - metaphors for a greater story. the dark knight almost falls back in his chair, enamored. water, skin. a birth. 

my favourite flower is Indian paintbrush.

vivacious

i want it to have rose petals, like a river. butter, silk, a phenomenon. there is a way of longing when all things are in front if you. soft and historic, white walls cascade towards a clear blue abyss. turn the music on louder. places that are the sound of altruistic weavings, quiet and benevolent.

healing is wild tobacco and sage, sailing through storms, little lion mouths. have i considered the miracle. a shoreline is a common ground for two wildly different worlds.

we meander through the wind holding hot chocolate. i try to find my body’s etymology, through a soft path of desert plants. when i hold my daughter with the great expanse, meaning is holy and clear. love is our greatest freedom.