Tag Archives: acceptance

in my dreams (14 Nov 2010)

4 Dec

you met me last night
you’re a father now
and a husband
these new fields

you love the overgrown
lands outside the city
you’re a wonderer
and I wondered

I travelled the night
and found you
passing the tests of grace
I recognised you

sitting on the floor
with your wife and child
and a simple affection
  stole me

I touched your hand
and found your eyes kind
like the first time
how did you find me? you ask

I didn’t, I answer
night time gives us paths
and our dreams follow them
like they were our palms


Else (Oct 2010)

14 Nov

We are silent for a long while.

We haven’t talked yet. It’s not that
this isn’t the right place to bring up awkward
discussions, it’s just that …

 this place; it seems
entirely irreverent to remember
the small details that piss me off.
The forest isn’t tidy.

It’s scrubby underfoot. We see shells of Rata
and skyward Rimu. I move
with my hands out, a blind person
feeling their way forward.

  And then he breathes, a subtle exclamation.
His eyes resting beyond me.
Off to one side is a dead punga trun¬k
and carved into the threads of bark

is a face.

A strong patriarchal guardian of a face.

It’s back to the creek and surveying
us. He’s like a Moai I say.
It looks both intent
and indifferent.
Gazeless eyes
long nose
long chin
a moko transplanting any expression.

Absorbed in duty.

Next to it, an old Rimu; its life shortened
I think, from a lightening strike,
  or something of that magnitude.

A dead wound of its exposed inner self
sliced jaggedly down
the northern rim of its trunk.

Death is arresting.

The bark is peeling back
like sunburnt skin of an old woman –
wrinkles so hardened a thousand stories
must exists within its folds.

Yet there is still life in this tree
in the shape of rata and ferns that grow
from the decay at sun kissed heights.
We look up, and up and up.

  The trunk is stout at the base,
meandering by the middle and at the top
reaches into nothing. It just stops
like an exclamation mark.

How long does it take to die?

I touch the tree and, like a hand
  I can’t let go
I stay, arm outstretched, fingering
rough material, appreciating the portion
that comes off as I lift my hand.

This tree is buoyant in death
it is one of those deaths that takes an eon
to surrender the complete life force.
And we have arrived in its final exhale.

There is no compulsion to move on.
The path is behind us and ahead of us
but off somewhere else. This tree isn’t about else.
It doesn’t venture an alternative to its life or death.

There is no else. There is only this.

versions of us (14 Sept 2010)

22 Sep

I want   to re    connect
again so that we

can know the happy
versions of us

and hang out with the happy
versions of each other

and have fun with the happy

  we have created

tornado (3 June 2010)

30 Jun

arriving to a tornado
and then the eye
of this storm settles

for the rest
  of my life

staying here is my calm
and excitement in one
my own personal

it is powerful
it is soothing

I am my better
I am my beauty and
I am the self I am in heaven

being here I can see

home is what happens
when my heart
stops running into the storm

songs end

29 Jun

You and I adore each other
we will always meet heart
to heart what ever distance
comes and goes

I love how you are touched
by my words and how you cry
for the love that aches
to be expressed

And you remember the stillness and clarity
in our connection, and wonder
how the communion between your heart
and head ever stole your attention

It’s all so clear; a deep knowing
of what is to be done and accepting
the innate struggle that threatens
to tear you in two

In the moment after my song
  before we open our eyes and look
into each other’s hearts
we are transformed

My heart is exposed and you
fill it with utter acceptance
Your heart is open and I
fly in so glad to be there

it is a little moment
where we are transformed
like the old and new of us
sit together in total recognition

divine infinite light I breathe (13 April 2010)

29 Jun

gone are the exploratory kisses
to dissipate charge
and tension

gone are the soft heartbeats
like gentle whispers on my breasts
gone is the running away

tongue and syllables for another day
gone is the desirous wanting
more of everything

gone is the belief that if only
we meet inseparably
I can be me with you

gone is the taste
of taking you
away or with me

gone is the necessary climax
to proclaim an ending
and gone is the person I was

before you breathed on me

perfection (25 Dec 2007)

26 Feb

I am still in the think of my story
it’s like going up to some
great learned saint of consciousness

and chanting “I am Love. I am Love”
in the hope that he will see me as Love
only… he sees perfection

he sees the mirror of himself
my desire to be seen
(at all, but specifically in a particular light)

is completely redundant
for when I went up to hug this guru
I didn’t fall apart as some do

I didn’t even quake in ecstasy
(I watched someone shake a kundalini
current just standing in front of him)

no… I feel quiet
and equal

I had an impulse to purr in his ear
but the hug smoothed me into his
neck and there I was, fully embraced

he turned his head slightly
and purred

and all I could think, is Yes!

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