The Invitation (Rewrite Approximately #7? I’ve Lost Count)

The Invitation (Rewrite Approximately #7? I’ve Lost Count)

When the wind strolls
in, my meadow friends
dance and bow.

When waves rush
to crash across
my ocean friend, wide beach
smiles back at me and the eagles
work-resting silent
on wind above etch sky-to-horizon greetings down
all the way home
so strong, having learned to be carried.

Can you hear the old playground laughter
between the creaks of empty swing-sways?
Hear playground teasing
within little sister crow’s
nagging cries
following big sister eagle back and forth
back and forth
boat house to nest
nest to boat house
boat house to nest?

Smile in self-recognition as
red-wing blackbird then begins
to nag big-sister crow.

Can you cherish the faded flap-flapping flag
forgotten by neighbors in their rush to return to the city?
Cherish wind: an
absent spacious presence?
Cherish sand: a
shattered toe-hugging perfect imperfection?
Cherish the polished-cream beauty
of driftwood?

Here stones, books, and gentle evening light
invite themselves to play—
sated, triumphant, wildly creative,
complete within themselves, which feels completely inappropriate.
Silent and awkward at just the right moments.

Still here?
Welcome. Please come in.

Humans invited here are few and far between.
Only those who gleefully join the chorus
certain their voice improves upon books
stones
dancing warm light
and silence.
And those certain of nothing at all.

All those invited
come to play
certain of little more than sea
and shore.
Lost accidentally or on purpose.
Either way
quiet enough within most days to hear it.

I’m so glad you asked me in with that sunbeam
when I was a crying child.

I’m more glad that invitation
is absolutely everywhere now
when I look for it.

Security

Security

Security
/səˈkyo͝orədē/

noun

Weapons, walls, blame, and technology

are not security.

For me

security is an open space within.

Security is the freedom to be a gentle sprite

at rest and moving among ever-shifting hearts.

Cross-generational laughter.

Borrowing others’ eyes to see.

Owning missteps.

Vulnerability.

Security

refuses to be a big thing.

She’s fiercely personal.

Security

is a robin’s nest
on a branch
in a storm.
What the Soil Said

What the Soil Said

If I was a person
this world
would destroy me.

Good thing then that I am
at peace under your fingernails.
A
robin on her nest.
Shining feather grass
waving in the ditch.
Moving clouds
at rest
in the sky.

And the wind
rolling foam into waves
for the fun of it.

You may be a woman weeping.
You may struggle, petition,
march, vote, scream, follow, vent, and lead.
What I see is a creator laughing out loud
on the very worst of days.
I see you.

You may be
p
erceived
perpetually
inappropriate
by all the sides
I witness but do not feel. Deep down
where my bones are
there are no sides.

Me. I just love this world of ours.
I am this world of ours.
Events don’t change that.

I am here naked and in gratitude.
Only i
n gratitude do I come to you.
Only in gratitude do I listen to you.
Only in gratitude do I learn from you.
I stand here with you.
I will receive
your violence
receive arrogance and ignorance.
I will receive the blood you spill.
I will hold it all
as my own.

I am
sacred ground.
I am love.
Try to wash me from your hands and
witness straight lines melting into rivers.

I will turn your rigid bones
soon enough
into trees.

Holy Ground

Holy Ground

the old man up the hill
tends the garden
of the woman next door

the woman behind us
up the hill
donates supplies to schools

the woman who lives beside her
takes her sick dog for very slow, sunny walks
to sniff the life from dewy blades of grass
while ailing pup still can

our neighbor below
home-cans food gifts for friends and family;
took in a toothless, clawless cat
so she’d have a safe and sunny retirement

another neighbor tends to her partner
through poor choices within dementia:
she’s stronger than the strongest battleship in existence
and kinder

another neighbor devotes her life
to teaching
and hosting the wandering and lost;
drops food by when she has extra
which is often

other neighbors
walk the perimeter
intending to keep us all safe

all give us tips
for who to call
to get our roof repaired
and where to go
when our eyes need a tune up
and what to do
when the power goes out

our neighbor eagles
cry to each other
when they’re bringing dinner home to baby;
and cry to us
“Welcome home!”

neighbor whales
pull forth the child from within us
every time they pass the shore
once I threw on two different shoes
running giddy-awkward
in a rush to greet them

our neighbor deer
teach us to sense presence before we see it
remind us of the unfathomable power
within vulnerability

our neighbor rabbits, birds, and insects
leave wonder-inducing patterns
in sand and snow
teach us new-old games as adults
we’d all but forgotten…

our saviors are our neighbors
our conversations, prayers
every moment
every footstep
lands on holy ground

Five Muses and a Cat’s Paw

Five Muses and a Cat’s Paw

Muse #1: Mine
This is My home
I am allowed to
retreat and rest
speak my mind
create
make mistakes
be myself
be silly
be forgiven
feel safe
lead
welcome
gift
play
wonder
ask questions
contribute
wander
make a significant difference
hide
be ill
laugh
love
lose
get angry
fall apart
break down
fully embrace grief
heal
grow 

Muse #2:  Yours
This is Your home
Will you invite me in?
Want me to stay?
Ask me to return?

Muse #3: Ours
This is Our home
Can we all feel this moment
as Mine and Yours and Something Special
down into our bones?
Right now?

Muse #4: Privilege
Privilege is being stretched while feeling loved.

Any place, any moment, any sensation
within which we’re learning, feeling the edges
–while being loved–
and so can grow
to appreciate differences a
mong mine, yours, ours, and home.

And any moment
within you and without
that you can find a space where you are loved.

This place, this moment, this sensation
today is privilege.

Any moment we can stand up for this place, moment, sensation
for weeping selves and hurting others:
imagine this a given, the default, the real for all
is privilege too. Breathe in and just imagine… 

Muse #5: Home
Mother Earth
Father Sky
Auntie River
Neighbor Ocean

Cousin Chaos
Crazy-Uncle Art
Silly Buddy
My
Old Pal Reflection

Pillow Moss
Lover Nighttime
Newborn Day

Cat Paw Presence
Time for Play