Treasure Seeker

The seaside is a treasure chest

Summoning the seeker with

Rhythmic billows

Alive with a million marvels

Waiting ever so patiently for

One willing to stoop

And truly See

Miles away, its waves still ripple

Upon my heart’s shore –

A kept seashell’s whirl

Inviting me to bend low and,

In stillness, follow its shimmering

Spiral toward treasures

Curled within

July 16, 2020

A poem born from the wonder of seashells gathered at the Pointe du Conguel in Quiberon on July 15.

Mending

We might have to work all day

to mend what’s broken –

– perhaps even longer

 

The oak that crushed my

grandma’s fence fell unbidden,

plunging from the heights like

words cascade from lips to

splinter the fragile boundaries

of our hearts

 

No one meant them, but

the damage has been done,

and now our posts need

new cement –

– yours and mine

 

We’ll have to spread it gently,

then hold quite still

side by side till it dries –

– as long as that may take

 

Your heart, my friend,

is worth the wait

 

Gram writes that her fence is

mended once again, made

“whole and beautiful” by

the careful work of men

 

Come now, will you

stoop down and

lend me your hand

so ours might begin?

Rennes, France

May 20, 2020

 

In Solitude

In solitude I am

A deep-sea diver

Leaving behind sure-footed

Illusions for cavernous

Realms within

 

Plunging to marvel at creatures

Wondrous and wild who

Whisper their tales to those

Willing to wait

 

Here in undulating silence

Stirred sands resettle as

I keep company

With curiosity

 

Awaiting Light

To sound

My depths

 

Till rising

Again new

Currents carry

My vessel to

Fresh shores

Written from the @artist.and writing prompt “In solitude I am...”

May 5, 2020

Photo by Rian Shin on Unsplash

Cloudscapes

In the stretching expanse of your soul’s sky

what clouds do you carry today?

Are they black and thick, no light in sight

or perhaps a carpet of gray?

Do they sail their ships on cerulean seas,

rocked by the lapping waves,

or do crayon-gripping fingers scrawl their shapes

beneath the corner sun’s gaze?

As you lie on your back in daydream’s field,

do bears and bunnies slide by,

or do piles of carefree cotton morph

into dragons before your eyes?

When cumulonimbus billows rise,

their bellies thunder-fraught,

do we dare to sit in the gathering storm

and let our hearts be caught?

No matter my form I long to be

a cloud who yields to Light,

not one who masks his piercing rays

but who opens unto sight.

Perhaps at last his jubilant beams

will bathe the waiting earth,

streaming down from unseen realms

exchanging gloom for mirth.

Rennes, France

May 1, 2020

Untitled

With cheery hue winking in welcome

its weight feels friendly in my palm,

chilled dimples hinting of laughter inside.

The knife slides smoothly around its equator,

an explorer eager to crisscross the globe

in search of the beneath.

With gentle pressure one thumb peers in

while its twin peels back nature’s

spongy leather, bated breath

met with sudden tang – vitality!

beckoning me to breathe the summer breezes

wafting from within these hemispheres.

In holy hush I listen to the story

of rinds unfurling, treasure-releasing,

a mother’s womb at mission’s end.

Soon fingers delve deeper,

splitting the pulpy crescents in my quest;

diaphanous walls break to reveal

golden diamonds glistening,

their spurts a cry - jubilation!

Sight and sound, smell and touch are

met at last by their sister sense –

Sour and sweet slide across my tongue

as teeth chew over their daily discovery.

Swallowing satisfaction in the flowing juice,

I rest at journey’s end in day’s beginning

wondering where I might sail next.

Rennes, France

April 24, 2020
Dedicated to my mom, who still teaches me to savor 💛

Photos by Halle and by Xiaolong Wong on Unsplash

Unknowing

They blindfolded me,

spun me around three times and

told me to go straight for the goal.

No time to grow accustomed to the darkness,

to let the vertigo settle,

to acknowledge I knew not the way

Donkey tail pinched between fingers,

my feet made their foray

only to be met with laughter,

the sure sign that

I had missed the mark.

Years later as the planet holds its breath,

humanity assailed by an invisible enemy,

I find my soul reconnecting with this

birthday party bewilderment

But this time, amidst my dizziness

I get to choose –

to stand quite still and let swirling

sands settle to the riverbed,

to release strategizing, projecting, planning,

to ignore the internal taskmasters urging me onward

and plop right down to Befriend Unknowing,

trusting myself into the tender hands of El Roi*,

whose all-seeing eyes were once themselves

banded in shadows as mocking laughter

spewed like lava from the Earth’s underbelly.

But those insults had no power to

draw this God-man off course.

As his followers fled in fear,

his steps were resolute,

going to the cross to hit the

mark that I had missed,

finishing his life’s work with

one crowning act of love.

For three hours the True Light was

shrouded in darkness

so that darkness would be no more.

So when my heart reels,

spun about by today’s sorrows,

he comes –

singing a lullaby to his child

jolted awake by the nightmare.

Note by note, he unties my blindfold

until my soul is flooded with the unseen

Light that no darkness can overcome.

And hand in hand, he shows me (he is) the Way.

*the God who sees

Rennes, France

April 22, 2020 (begun April 8, early on in the dizzying swirl of a global pandemic...just some pieces of my heart that have found their way into words. May you, too, hear the lullaby of Light.)

Improvisation

She taught us to improvise with what we have –

shapes sparking exploration of worlds unknown

hidden within our souls and sinews

softly slumbering yet longing to awaken

As the pianist’s notes draw them forth,

colors lodged in memories find expression

in the arc of an arm, a sparkling eye,

pure gold offered in cupped hands

to any heart willing to receive

I take this treasure so freely given

and light spreads its soft tendrils inward,

illuminating a spacious sofa where

I’m invited to sit for a spell

In the warm stillness I come home to myself,

bathed in golden rays of welcome

by the One who calls me beloved

Ever so slowly, an invitation swells up

to rejoin the dance with steps of greeting,

offering my cup of gold to another soul,

like a candle that loses nothing when

passing along its tender flame

April 14, 2020

A poem inspired by a dream mingling with memories of improv dance classes and the state of my heart upon waking in this season of Covid-19 confinement, where we’re being called to improvise in a whole new way.