Summer's black night sky flickers on and off,
backlit to the luminesence of a thousand tiny lanterns.
they dapple the darkness, each with their own little light
carefree and radiant.
flapping, fluttering, glimmering, glowing.

Here time rests. Just this. Only this.
Here at the edge,
the world blinks into and out of existence.
continuity ceases and you might fall endlessly.
Yet when bottom vanishes away
it cannot be called falling, instead
you soar on the strength of your own light.
and the absence that is everything, leaves you so full
there is room for no more. At last, content.

Yet in the blink of another eye,
the world comes crashing through again
the list of tasks incomplete,
the leaning into a future unknown.

I see you with my my whole being now,
perhaps for the first time,
and for now, knowing you are there, is enough.


Upon Seeing You Cry

Love is like water. I am love. You are too.
If you crack me open, I do not break
rather, picture a pebble momentarily splitting the water's surface
and then, the quiet stillness resumes.

Water, like love will seek out the holes, the crevices,
the places that seem so solid and hard
Water will find a way in. Make the material vulnerable
soften and wash away the excess. Transform it. Gleaming.
Water will round out the rough edges or reflect you back to yourself
as a rippled mirror.

Have you ever watched raindrops run down your window and blissfully unite into pools?
Were they ever really apart?
Or did we just imagine them separate,
for the glory of watching them reunite.

The sacred dance of ocean waves frolicking to and fro
Lila in motion. Part to the whole. Wholeness itself.
I am sure if I looked closely enough I could see myself in your teardrop
and perhaps there - we could float downstream into the ocean's rolling currents.

Summer Solstice Virtual Council

Saturday, June 19, 2010
join the FREE LIVE call:
Thirteen Indigenous Grandmothers