The step onto a leaf

A poem for Poets and Storytellers United The prompt is: What’s the most important step a person can take? 

The step onto a leaf

I stepped down from this world
where I had to be someone.
I shrank and shrank so small
I stepped onto a leaf
it floated across a quiet lake,
and the wind played an adagio
so loud, so tender,
it swept me off my feet.

Dragonflies danced,
skimming the silver skin of the water,
and their grace
touched the deepest part of me.
The fish leaped,
their splash a wild heartbeat
I felt so alive.

The beauty was too much to hold.
It pressed against my chest,
spilling past the edges of my being.

I grew human sized again,
but I was changed.
I no longer needed to own beauty,
no longer tried to scoop
the moon's golden spread from the lake.
I knew it would slip through my fingers.

Instead, I held the leaf
and its quiet wisdom:

You must become small
to understand the great.

And like the tide
we follow the rhythm of wonder

Sacred air

 What's Going On invited us to focus on an event that was (or would be) a break from everyday routine.  One with friends. 

Sacred air

We settle on worn wooden chairs
with soft satin cushions.
Sunrays tiptoe across the floor,
casting playful rainbows
on polished surfaces.

We’ve left the chaos outside
rushing traffic, wailing sirens,
a world tangled in turmoil.

You warm your hands
around a hot cappuccino
in the hush of a friend’s company.
Daily this and that’s spill out
like soft splashes of coffee.
Words flow freely.
Stories deepen.

Then the mood shifts.
You tease, gently,
as your friend
measures her sugar like a scientist.
She takes the bait
we chuckle in harmony.

The cafe lights up.
Time dissolves.
You land in this soft place
and pull out a poem
from your pocket.

With a trembling voice,
you reveal your truth.
Together, you sink into silence.

The light dims.
The day exhales
having inhaled sacred air.

The weight of being seen

 

The weight of being seen

I will wind my stillness around you.
you may land like a bird on my hand
and pour your dreams, your song,
your tears, and all that’s wrong into my lap
I will sit with you in the space between
your notes till you hear your own song
until your soul takes flight
and soars to the edge of love.

My presence mirrors your beauty,
your wings in harmony with the wind.
And when you’re ready to rise into the light,
your soul bare before me,
your depth revealed
in the quiet weight of being seen
my heart will beat for you,
and yours will join with mine…and the world
a world where we let each other be
who we are.

Love

The language of scars

 I used the prompt scars for Poets and Storytellers United

The Language of Scars

I started with many scars,
folding the scratches and scrapes
carefully into my soul,
then stumbled and stepped up
to face the world.

I fought fiercely.
Like a wild river, I carved
my way through the valley.
I crumbled and cried
but I found my guide
in the majestic mountains.

I found the light
spreading its emerald hue
across the morning dew.
I found the truth
splashing drops of wisdom
in a quiet symphony
of my mystical journey
over stone and rock.

My scars lie buried within,
whispering stories.
I now understand
that pain is a river
flowing through many lands,
and in its current,
I found a language
to reach the wounded hand.

Under the chestnut tree

 

Under the Chestnut Tree

The fabric of humanity has been stained.
It smells like poverty of empathy
where dreams die,
and fear and foe
dwell in the dark dimensions
of the domain of dictators,
where drums beat to power and greed.

I kneel in a place
longing to find truth
in a world
hardened by fear
my heart,
wrapped in a layer of lament.
built into a barricade
to resist the darkness.

I sit under a chestnut tree.
Just be.
Come sit with me.
What we need is peace
to pierce our hearts,
and love
will be the blanket
that gives us warmth
beneath the rustling leaves.

 

Life is a bitch

I explored the contradiction between pain and resilience, effort and surrender. Surrender with the stubbornness of a smile. Even when life is harsh, we carry on.

Life is a Bitch

I called the one
without a name.
Opened wrong doors,
entered wrong rooms.
Found truth
a little too late.
I kept smiling.

I fed the skeleton
of broken dreams.
Stepped outside
to follow the stream.
The trees waved at me
I waved back.
I kept smiling.

I couldn’t stop
the water from being cold.
Life is a bitch.
But I am
a queen warrior.
I took a cold shower.
I kept smiling.
The water never asked me why.