Cloaked

I tremble and cower behind the log. The figure floats closer. I try to make out what that noise is; I realize it's the figure ... humming a tune that tickles the back of my heart. I know I've heard the song before, but where? And when? Not that it matters, in the circumstance.
The figure comes closer, into a ray of moonlight. It is a woman, looking around as though she is trying not to notice anything in particular. She is a tortured soul, tortured by her terror of paying attention.
I rise from behind the log and lean upon my cane before stepping closer to her. "Miss," I say, quietly. She jerks her gaze to my face for a split-second and then continues floating around with that look on her face. That is when I recognize her.
I take off my cloak and wrap it around her shoulders, pin it at the front. I whisper to her, "Have patience. Have acceptance. You are loved."
I turn and walk home. I open the heavy chest at the foot of my bed and take out the old cloak, the one that has been restitched and mended and patched so often that you cannot even tell what it originally looked like. I gently stroke the cloth in memory of a time long gone. I am old now, I have done my duty to the world, to myself.

Us

Why stars we be
When all is cast?
Mayhap terra
Mayhap indeed
The deed has yet
To be done.

Beginnings

Memories happen again

Not a year and a day
Not hard to be soft
Strength the eighth card
I feel you in me
I see me in you
Winter is dead?
It is just warming up.

Would It Be So Bad?

Hiding. I'm hiding. You are hiding.

We turn our faces away.

But no way is there to

keep from seeing that

we are all the same.

I am hiding this and you are hiding that.

Yet I know what you are hiding and you know what I am.

What if we relaxed our necks, stopped facing the other way?

What if we saw face forward, head on, what we were all hiding?

Would the world explode?

Or would we all start crying and laughing with the relief?

I fear my fear of fear.

The fear of showing myself,

all the parts of me that I can't see.

If I bore my soul and my body to you,

what would the reaction tell?

Would you back away slowly or come and hug me?

I would like to say I'm going to stop hiding and start showing,

but that is what I cannot promise.

Maybe in the end I will gain the courage

to give you courage the same.

That Feeling

Dawn slowly shows

The windows yellow

The rocky peak is pink

Orchestral calls of birds

Heavy blankets weigh

Your legs held down

By warmth in midst

Of morning chills

Mist gathers miles above

Gathers and draws more

Clouds reflect the new sun

The old sun, always there

Oceanus

The sea's eyes
See that white dress
Floating
Swirling in the dark waters
Of the bay

The sea's eyes
See the black wood
A hand reaches down

The white, beautiful fabric
Is gone
Gone with that hand
Made with skin
That was blacker than night

As black as the very bottom
of the deepest of the ocean.

Sisters Make Life Worth Smiling

My sister.

I love you.

You are strong, you endure everything that happens and no matter what, you come out stronger.

You always manage to make me burst out laughing with your quick wit, when I'm sad.

You are odd and strange and that goes to show that you are family.

Your emotions are always pure. When you feel anger, you BECOME the anger. When you are excited, you BECOME excitement. And so on.

I love everything about you, sissy.

You are absolutely perfect.

Happy 14th birthday, Kaelee.

Sette

Tell them about it.
Forever brooding will change.
Knowing then, no longer now.
You are soon seen.
Don't feign fright.
We know. And you know
That they must.

The Flute of Desire

Lower yourself upon a series of silent flutes. Become what you are not. For if you do, you can see what others truly are. Remain aware of what YOU truly are, or forget. Once you know the truth, Real Truth, you know more than the moon. And then the flutes can finally sing.

Wait

"Rub the oil into your hand," says Pahu.
I rub the oil, granted by the red candle, into my hand. Pahu stops me.
"That's enough."

The next day, I find her under the Tree, our meeting place. There is silence, but for the breeze, pushing at the wild grass and the branches of the Tree. I sit a little away from Pahu, my lovely friend.
After a while, the sweet silence is broken by Pahu, as she says, "You've done well. Now it is time for me to train myself, as I've trained you."
We bow and touch cheeks.
She walks down to the sea, stops for just two moments at the shore, and sinks into the sand.

The following day, the dolphins screamed.

The Fuzz

Dreams are the part of us.
We need the white, the deep.
Everlasting until....
Ever is the last thing remembered.
Trailing in your wake,
Dreaming lends a new soul.
The mist in your eyes is.

Because the sky is Grey, I see you more clearly.
I smell your stagnancy when you are moving.
Don't pretend you are not red with regret.
For the things you've forgotten have become brine.
When my eyes spot that trick, you will sigh in relief.
Relief that you have been seen, found out.
No more secrets. I know them all.

Rock-Ello Baby

The past is a cradle, weeping in the dark.
Burning hairdryer and hints of an un-washable stain.
When a hamper is put under duress, it is better to just smile and wait. The stressor is soon to see the truth, bear no worry on that.

A squire may study, though that makes not his wisdom. He must first face the pain he has begun to adhere to. Only then is he to be able to see the brilliance of the dark red blood.
Soon the past will become the future and we will not forget it.

The Brown Oxide of Winter

A petty tyrant is looking at his unpaid bills with an obvious look of disdain. His cook serves him stale bread and tainted meat in a fever of panic, as she feels a ghost cross her path. It is January and the frozen lake outside the window holds skating children. Across the street is a church, inside of which a rabbi dances in a white silk coat, oblivious to the world around him. Behind the church, in the alley, a fool shouts, "I am the World!" In an open window above him is a face, belonging to a man who realizes that the fool is not such a fool after all.

The Snowman of Distractions

You say, "There is a method to the madness."
I say, "My method is madness."
You say, "For the sake of sanity!"
I say, "Let go of it. It'll drag you down."

Death knocks at your door.
You run for your life.
Death knocks at my door.
I invite him in for tea.

I suppose that we are different,
I've loved you and I'll love you evermore.
And though snowmen melt in the hot sun,
It is only when they're sane.

...And not made of packing material.

The Blast of That Trumpet

This is for all those who contemplate suicide.
This is all for those close to Death.
This is in honor and memory of the only Rumi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Remember me,
I will be with you in the grave,
on the night you leave behind
your shop and your family.
When you hear my soft voice
echoing in your tomb,
you will realise
that you were never hidden from my eyes.
I am the pure awareness within your heart,
with you during joy and celebration,
suffering and despair.


One that strange and fateful night
you will hear a familiar voice--
you'll be rescued from the fangs of snakes
and the searing sting of scorpions.
The euphoria of love will sweep over your grave;
it will bring wine and friends, candles and food.


When the light of realization dawns,
shouting and upheaval
will rise from the graves!
The dust of ages will be stirred
by the cries of ecstasy,
by the banging of drums,
by the clamor of revolt!


Dead bodies will tear off their shrouds
and stuff their ears in fright--
What use are the senses and the ears
before the blast of that Trumpet?

Look and you will see my form
whether you are looking at yourself
or toward the noise and confusion.
Don't be blurry-eyed,
See me clearly--
See my beauty without the old eyes of delusion.

Beware! Beware!
Don't mistake me for this human form.
The soul is not obscured by forms.
Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt
the rays of the soul's light
would still shine through.

Beat the drum,
Follow the minstrels of the city.
It's a day of renewal
when every young man
walks boldly on the path of love.

Had everyone sought God
Instead of crumbs and copper coins
They would not be sitting at the edge of the moat
in darkness and regret.

What kind of gossip house
have you opened in our city?
Close your lips
and shine on the world
like loving sunlight.

Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!"

~Rumi

Seventeen

The Water Love

I walked down the street in the dew dress. The moon was gibbous, the stones were dark. I read the sign on the window, it said: "We hire those for sale." I turned away, looking for the soul that I had lost. I was Royal Violet, but meant naught. The moon was clothed in rolling moisture, which fell softly to roll down my face. I whispered, "I am no longer." Then I continued on.

I Love

I love people. I wish they loved each other. People can be so kind; they can also be so cruel. A mother who beats her child. A policeman father who punches his daughter. People going into war. And yet, there are also the wonderful people who adopt those children as family and show them true love and kindness. This is my dream. If I live long enough to have the ability of adoption, I will do everything in my power to help. I will take in Waifs and Strays. I will live my life in servitude. I will make life worth living. I will love.

The Voices In My Head

Crickets In The Night
Old McDonald had a farm. E-I-E-I-O. And on his farm, he had a cricket. E-I-E-I-O. With an ‘eee eee’ here. With an ‘eee eee’ there. Everywhere an ‘eee eee.’ Old McDonald had a farm. E-I-E-I-O.


My Stomach At High-Tide
Pyoaowlraou. Pew pew ping! Qoinnngrrrrwaaaararrroool. Blooooop bloOOoop bleeeeaaaaaouuuw. Mmmmmrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaah. Snurrrrgle-bloooruglaaarah.