Poems want
to be found
to give the mind an ocean
to illumine our soul threads
to break the spell of the ordinary
lead us to
the songs of the spoons
bees’ chants in the hives
pens tapping on the desk,
waiting for us
soft humming inside the walls
stars in the bedroom
offering Light to our loneliness.
Poems want
to feed the rebel seeds
in the soil of our bodies
disturb our complacency
wake us, shake us, take us
across the bridges between worlds
defy the thinking mind that would have us believe its sovereignty
show us the Light at the end of the linear tunnel
teach us how to navigate these dark nights of the soul
from our hearts, bellies, blood, bones.
Poems want to mend the gashes in our hope
gashes in our hearts
heal lifetimes of hurt.
Poems want to announce the presence of the Infinite
blessings of the Dark.
Poems want us
to trust feathers and angels
to be the wings
to be the moon tonight –
this night.
Poems want to perch
on the nightstand
ready when we are derailed
by night terrors
awakened by the horrors
and the stark madness of these times.
Poems want to teach us
the Sacred Ways of the Dark,
point us
to the still-festering wounds from our past – hiding in the back of the caves –
invite them to speak.
Poems want
to show us how to let go into the Dark’s deep mothering,
teach us how welcoming grief and sadness softens us to be able to care and love more,
feel the anguish
of our sisters and brothers,
the creatures, oceans, forests, fields – the living, breathing, sorrowing natural world.
Poems want to find
the poet, artist, troubadour
folded into the shadows – coax them out – tell them it is their time.
Duende “all that has dark sounds has Duende” said Lorca –
the dark force that can breathe raw life into every art form,
the deep soul cry of the body, the earth –
Dark inspiration
Dark luminosity.
Poems want to bless us
the way our mothers never could,
the way our Earth mother
has tried and tried
to bless the gashes in our
hope and hearts,
teach us that we are blessable.