Somewhere Inside the Rainbow

When life hands you gray,

grab a paintbrush

with your other hand...

When the Wind

Like the space that holds the wind,

keep your ideas flexible.

All your thoughts, 
keep them open to her direction in

the whisper of willows,

the rustle of ragweed,

the rush of wings,

static of leaves,

soft embrace,

the stagnant silence.

Don't ignore the details,

for the language of now

is how the wind speaks.

Now,

what does she say 
to you?

Hear Her Roar

I
     believe that an angry woman
     invented the God of judgment,
     out of hope and
     as a means and solution to sort out the men -
          the "sheep and the goats" as they say
               (which frankly are not great options to begin with).
She
     dared to dream and
     conjured up the idea that God
     could be a man -
          both lion and lamb -
               but alas!
She
     realized that
     He doesn't exist,
          that sheep and goats are in the same
          pathetic category anyway, and that
She,
     from the beginning and
     in the end,
          was
     and is
the Universe.

What You See

I saw something

that sent me running to you.

A refuge to my youth,

I shimmied up your trunk.

Little calloused hands traced

your library of bark -

layers on layers of stories,

all you’ve seen...

Did you see what I saw? I wonder.

Tell me, I whisper,

what do you see?

I wonder, I wonder...

What else has your gaze held?

What first kisses?

What tears?

What fears made real?

What birds have first flown from your arms?

What tales do your bones hold close?

I wonder...

Whenever I pray,

I pray to you.

Giver of life, I breathe you in

and breathe you out in

an offering of kinship -

my half of the circle,

a gaze going two ways.

A gateway to other realms,

kingdoms in your branches

made of starlight,

you send forth magic.

You see, know all, and don’t tell - like

god...

Steadfast, silent - except

for a whisper in a breeze.

Tell me, tree,

what do you see?

Everyday I watched you

watch me

from outside my window,

doing the unthinkable.

Steady, you stay

like your gaze -

not searching or sidetracked by

something shiny or new,

but me, who is right in front of you.

Again and again

the unthinkable...

I prayed,

you stayed...

God.

Let me tell you, tree -

thank you for not telling what you see.

I whisper,

it’s taken me a while to see that

you

see

me.