miscellaneous: classic pieces from a part-time poet

so, i finally did it. there's a collection of my stuff out there.

read, comment, and tell a friend or five.  

if you'd like to help support my various endeavors, please consider making a small donation.

why the cash?  well, i'm trying to complete my spiritual ordination, take a reiki master training course in the spring, and stock up on supplies necessary for my healing practice.  any money i can push towards those things is a great help, since most of the day job funds are tied up in bills/food/survival. 

you can send donations via paypal to raha.reiki [at] gmail.com.        

and, last but not least, thank you for all the wonderful comments and conversations over the last couple of years. looking forward to many, many more. 

happy reading!

mother sky

i hear you.

velvet sky dotted with diamonds, whispering secrets.

i'd thought your daughters claimed me;
they must have already known
i was your namesake.

i think i am
what i've always been,
but you stretch me into your infinite space
and tell me i belong
there.

i hear you.

reaching for the sun

words can't do this.

everything i could say about you feels cliche and tired. empty descriptions that can't possibly express the warmth of your arms or the sugar in your smile.

it's difficult to write poems for you.  i'd rather be a poem for you: something uplifting or pretty to hear; something to memorize and carry with you.

would you mind?

obrigado

i've become
so proficient
at drawing my shutters
that i hope,
one day,
i can make him understand
how magickal it is
that he can reopen my heart
with a few words
or a smile
as i sit,
exhausted,
hammer, nails and plywood
still in hand.

in gratitude

it is such a gift to be learning about myself in this way...

the magnitude and multitude of visions and dream layers.

the sweetness of opening to new experiences and ways of being.

the "chance" encounters that offer new perspective and lovely plumes of fresh air.

Spirit is awesome.

forge

for dae

within the pain is a small pearl of pleasure.

the defiant measure of, "you will not kill me."

the sweet, salty ache
of lemon on a paper cut;
a stinging, biting healing.

the ability to laugh.
deep, belly laughs.

the smug chuckle of the harlot after a lashing from the wife.
the snicker of the Goddess before she moved underground.
the maniacal cackle in the midst of a gut wrenching cry.

that is the jewel i am creating
deep down in the center of myself.

moment #3587

he has the beautiful habit of fitting into unlikely spaces to cuddle with me, fitting himself into/next to me like a warm, brown appendage.

i feel his pulse; different, but still like my own. it deeply interests me. i enjoy watching it flow through his neck as he rests.

if i kiss it, he smiles.

i'd forgotten these gifts that men bring.

inhale/exhale

you found
a new way to hold me...
channeling the sun
to thaw my soul.

all that magic
in two hands
and a strong shoulder.

idea #48 - host a potluck

...folks love food!

idea #16-18 - count your blessings*

an oldie, but goodie.

do it silently or aloud.
every day or every other day.
do it when you're smiling
and when you're in tears.

be thankful for the mundane, the miracle, the special and the usual.

gratitude really does do wonders for your spirit. and it's a wonderful way to prepare for the solstice and new year.

try it!


*remember: the postings are spread over about 90 calendar days, so ideas that could take a few days or more will get 2-3 numbers to make up for it.

solstice 2010

grateful for my loving
and all it's taught me

moving forward
even when it's difficult

reminiscing
releasing
cleansing
reflecting

taking comfort in the light of the moon
as the solstice returns the sun

i am full
of myself
and others
life's bittersweetness
and pure joy.

sunday morning

remembering the beauty and value in heartbreak. the wisdom that comes from pain not merely experienced, but learned from.

Maman Dantor knew i needed to see her yesterday.
heeding Oshun's gentle whispers.
Mami used those rose petals to soften the blow.
even Pomba Gira waved at me, blowing fiery kisses.

my fierce, healing, raucous, loving Mothers.

the Ones who forced me to live with eyes open, head high, and chest forward, belly laughing all the way.

thank You...

via twitter {or: rant #98,127}

i'm in love. with everything. mainly myself. but when i get full, it expands and runs over and i see the beauty in it all... and i know that can sound like some hippy dippy bullshit, but it really isn't.

in my opinion, it's at the core of our nature; it is nature itself. why flowers bloom, the ocean moves, and the sun rises.

when we love, when we are loving, when we are loved...it all fits, it all works. but we've gotta expand the boundaries. marriage, partnership, kids, home, family...all of that is love, but it's not ALL love is.

you can be loved/loving if you live alone, if you're childless, if you are {financially} poor.

true poverty is not understanding this; the constant search for things instead of soul.

things are great. they make life easier. but they are not all.

you are all.
earth is all.
sky is all.
water is all.
fire is all.

go deeper.

{begin here}
{if you can't see the timeline, follow me.}

egun

the ancestors are close...whispering, nudging, laughing, playing...

i am, all at once, grateful and curious about what they have to share with me...my great grandmother, especially.

i only know her through photos and my mother's stories, although my great aunt looks a lot like her.  she was gone a full 15 years or so before i entered the world.

to me, she's been a sweet presence with a wind-chime laugh, smiling through dreams and waking visions.  and it seems she is part of the crew ushering me into this next phase of life. 

it's her recipe my mother uses for the christmas rolls. although they're always delicious, she says they never come out quite like nanny's. 

she helped with my biscuits last night. they're delicious. i will remember the technique. 

afterwards, i wondered how often she'd guided me around the kitchen...if her chicken-raising in the basement somehow girded my spirit against squeamishness during sacrifice.

her presence reminds me of the long absence of her oldest daughter - my grandmother.  she has been on the other side nearly 30 years now, but it feels like she never really left me.

i knew her briefly. my only memory is of hands the color of old ivory - hands i apparently share, albeit in a deeper caramel - and snatches of a voice. i do not remember the distinctive laugh my mother says she is slowly forgetting.

maybe if i mix her favorite drink, she'll whisper a hello...

a new season...

spring is coming...

she always brings hyperawareness;
a near constant state of arousal.

all my senses light up.
breezes feel like kisses;
i can smell the earth before/after the rain;
my heart blossoms with the tree buds;
the wind sounds different.

coats and clothing slowly thin out.

small pleasures include
a day without socks,
going to lunch without a jacket.

i've been blessed with deep, sweet love dreams
i revel in their deliciousness as i write them down...

i feel delicious
luscious
sweet
lusty
desiring...

something like
a perfect peach
waiting to be split open
inhaled
then devoured...

{he's gotta have a pretty mouth...}

of course,
summer is my true season.

but the prelude is nearly as nice.

iba oshun laketi

the healing has begun.

it stings like a paper cut dipped in salted lemon water, but the wound is cleansed.

i look forward to seeing my butterfly-scar.


{thanks to phoenix for reminding me that scars can be beautiful...}