You may feel like a garden of flowers right now,
living in abundance, living intensely, living in totality.
Kootenai Lake, Silent Morning
A cool, clear morning
fingers numb from the lake
the way she opens herself to me
so soft and vast
red and silver and rust pebbles
an old blanket on my shoulders
a terrecotta mug of chai and
the quiet lap of waves
She too takes just what she needs
melds with the breeze
blows and glimmers
flight and majesty
open yourself to me.
Now the smoke has settled
long and light beyond
the lake, like a soft white
veil, soothing and ancient.
My body is soft and strong,
rubbed and stretched and
held. Laughter and chatter
meld with the soft lap of waves,
the continuous calm of
life on retreat. This is part of
me now, these shores
and their silent mornings,
three kinds of tea all day
and so many shades of green
spread across my plate,
offerings of nourishment,
offerings of kindness,
of non-doing.
All I must do is show up,
work internally, quietly,
with strength. All I have to do
is listen and see. Lift the judgement,
soften the gaze and lead
from my heart.
Integration
This morning the smoke
has smoothed into
a low cloud
stories and memories like
long stretches of congestion,
of hazy light, fill the
sacred space and I am
alive and awake in my
own gorgeous humanness
the still is still
inside of me
the sound of stones
beneath my feet,
the shining surface of lake
integration is everything
the eagle and the swan
the dragonfly and serpent
all these strange creatures
that land here on this page
my belly is hungry again
and my body fills with
greens and reds
like a strange and ravenous animal
my aspirations scattered and
radiant, raw like these mountains
raw like this heart when
she's alone, no tugging
of shirtsleeves,
no asking for more,
they need so much from me
and I spin with them,
spin and spiral and give
like some wild fountain
give like
a tremendous tree, until
that unexpected summer
storm and I land,
precarious, the roof caves
in and inside,
the children scream and cry
judgements are harsh rain,
judgements and blame and
need are rolled into
an iron ball, hurled
towards the grand house,
hurled and the bees
land and buzz, their venom
so twitchy and alive,
their anger palpable
and they said they were
all gone
and they land on bits of
eggs and parsley,
on almonds and mangoes
quick to balance my shit out
quick to remind that pestilence
and disease lurk in
dark corners,
that even with bliss and
a silence that soothes the lake
the mind darts and flies,
predicts and solves
like those tulle wings,
that incessant buzz.
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