Category Archives: poetry

The Old Friend and the Stranger

The ocean stretches forward to kiss my toes.

Old friends and strangers at the same time.

The water that reaches the shore has never touched before that moment.

Those toes have traveled far and wide since the last visit and the being inside is an altogether different iteration of me.

Me. This idea of self that we carry as if we are ever one and unchanging.

You are as many as the drops in the ocean.
You change as frequently as the water that rises and crashes to the shore.

So why do you continue to berate yourself for who you are? Why do you come again and again with judgement and criticism?

Can you fill that space with the love you find when you look out at the vast water in amazement?

Can you find amazement for your being, for this moment of self?

The ocean. We return again and again to its shores and see it for what it is as a whole – the ocean.

And yet, every piece of that ocean is something new. Each drop of water. Each creature that calls it home.

And you. Sweet you.

You return again and again and see yourself as this whole. Yet you overlook all the strength your past has given you. You lose sight of the parts of you that have grown and flourished and become.

Cherish yourself as sacred and magnificent just like the ocean. For you are.

Be the old friend and stranger at the same time. Dancing beautifully the line between all that has been and all that is yet to come.

With Love,

The Owl’s Lullaby

I woke so early I heard an owl’s sweet lullaby.

The silence of the night still hung in the air as the birds began to sing in gratitude for the returning light of the sun.

As I sat and soaked in the stillness of the air, the bird song changed to car song as the traffic picked up on the busy road by my home and I marveled at the waking of the day.

I did not know yet how soul-filling the day would be. It would hold laughter and delicious homemade food and deep connection.

I woke so early I heard an owl’s sweet lullaby.

Daybreak.

Sacred Grieving

Strip away the outside world

Until the feelings lay themselves bare

In the nakedness of the soul,

In the wet and salty tears,

the gasps of air,

the fire in my heart

My grief awakens the elements inside

Part of the path to sacred becoming

Is to see the inevitable

In various forms

A reminder to live fully now

Because now may be all you have

Or now may be decades laid out before you

Precious each and every moment

Breathe. Find gratitude for breath.

Cry. Find gratitude for tears.

Scream. Find gratitude for voice.

Write. Find gratitude for words.

Strip away the outside world

Until the feelings lay themselves bare

I am the woman grown from…

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from seeds that were planted in Russia and Poland.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from family who went down into the earth and died there.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from family who brought sustenance then health to the neighborhood.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from women who tucked their dreams away in the folds of their clothes, and cried, or didn’t, over what could have been.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from family love so strong I could sense it but never be of it, in it, in his deep hugs until they were gone.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from Grams who died with her dreams unlived, her words unwritten.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from strong hands, love filled hugs, sturdiness.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a woman who never drove yet lived to see 95.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a mama so loving, compassionate and quietly fierce.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a small start who keeps growing and growing and growing.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a woman who knows finding herself is a lifelong journey.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from love and light, compassion and understanding, a tender heart.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from plans cancelled last minute, never invited, on the periphery of truly being friends.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from books and books filled with poetry of dying wishes, of anger, of rage – of misunderstanding and of being misunderstood.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a deep desire to be one with the world and a deep allergy that made the connecting painful.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from days and days and days of tears, of first loss, of heartache, soulache, deeper than any explanation.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from a desire to feel part of this world, yet always on the edges.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from pages and pages of stories, adventures, and lifetimes of knowledge.

I am the woman grown from young girl grown from…