Tag Archives: stillness

can I be your blood (24 March 2011)

29 Mar

you pushed me away
so I closed the door
behind me
  and locked it

you said nothing new to me
I’d heard it all before
I heard it when the door
  was open
and I heard it again
from inside the cage


you know, I took myself
down to the river
I rescued the baby from the reeds
I gave a new life
  to my life

so that I could come be
  your still pond


I didn’t do it
so that you could turn around
and say this is my experience – yours
is coming

I did it to ready me
in the purest way I knew how
to be your sister
and auntie
to the magic of a bean


I want to be there

and say; I remember the day you were born


I want to know my sister
in strength
and in the fierce blood
  of her own

I want to see you belong –
to see you ground your DNA on earth
to meet the part of you
that connects you
  to the mountain

and know
in the shadow of that
majestic belonging

that I also belong


blood is thicker than water
  it is true
      I am not your true blood

which is why, this water I offered
was the sweetest I could
the purest source I could find
and the stillest
  of reflections

to match the blood of yours


this is the blood I share with you


I need a muse (26 March 2011)

27 Mar

I need a muse like I need God
I need to colour my life
with carrier pigeons

and love letters
written behind closed doors
on the floor at night


I need the footsteps
of my life to sound out
into your world
and know the glorious echoes

are heard – tell me – can you contain
me in the quiet chamber of your heart?
Will you call upon me
as the beginning sound of creation?

If you hold this for me
I will call you.

You are so rare


Meet me
Meet me now
See how ruffled I am
  without you

Stop dropping me off
at the doorstep

Take me inside


A muse is such a gift
if you were to leave…
if you were to leave…
you’d awaken in me

the yearning that’s inside all of us


These things come undone
in their own time and way
You’re the poetry
Graffiti on the moon

I hang to the mid-air

and I point to you and I point to you
and then one day
I point that yearning towards

I point that yearning towards


I need a muse like I need God

This yearning is so precious.


sanctuary (6 Feb 2011)

7 Mar

When I am a city, I climb inside the walls
of my own gates, I open my window

I pull the trees inside
I paste the leaves to the walls

I stencil the long morning shadows
down the streets

I point arrows to the open doors
I enter the chamber of stillness

I listen to the hermit who whispers
honour this

this is my inner sanctuary.

moved (5 Feb 2011)

7 Mar

I am standing
reasonably still
there’s music and it makes
me swirl within

it’s that time
in the dance
when tiredness can’t sit
and the night is holding

the push and pull
I am standing, open
terribly so
it’s all happening

the unmoving and moving
a buffeted tree would know what I mean
a tree on the outcrop of this hill
may still want to know

what it’s like to stare out my eyes
to change direction
to move my foot, like he could replant
a root on his

We both jolt in surprise.

welcome the whale (20 Jan 2011)

22 Feb

It’s fast, the rhythm jaunty
there’s nothing foreign in it
but I can’t breathe
like my lungs are craving
complete submersion

and I am drowning, as a fish drowns
  in air
the pulse of life has sped up
and I have slowed

my rhythm

the more I try
  to join in
the more I
drown, the muse is pulling

I can feel another pulse
it is deep



it is the speed of sand
the texture of ocean
the ripple of one century
after another

it is a forever more wish

it is the silent pulse
the youngest throb of an ancient whale
as she holds the calm
and claims the surface

for a wandering moment
she sees me struggling

you are not of them today

and guides me
I navigate my slowness
my steadiness

I pulse languid on the radar
these small eyes
still rhythms

to those up there
I pulse alone
the surface ruffled by wind and
the chattering white waves

aah but I pulse not-of-them today
   I pulse deep

noise (11 Dec 2010)

14 Feb

I’ve taken you out of your house
and into mine
there’s no radio, no tv

I don’t ask you how you are
because I know you are full
of noise

this is why we are together
I know what it’s like to have something
life can be defined by

And I know too you want to find
boundless moments

the wheel (16 Nov 2010)

14 Feb

In the dust of his words, I feel

I feel churnings of sadness
gallop through my body
the ache of dry land.

I feel myself stand up
tired muscles from holding
yesterday together.

I feel … a wheel …
strong, wooden

reaching out
like they define an outer space

turning and experiencing
the ground, the sky
is ever-changing.

In his dust I feel it all.

I feel the earth and the sky separate
I feel the earth roll backwards
I feel the open earth

inviting the light in
I feel something warm and unyielding –
resting quietly

fairly unnoticed
a still point
a wheel turning the experience

I feel a finger hot as irons
point to my heart –
don’t let this close! she demands

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