Tag Archives: Creation

Genesis

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Day Nineteen

 

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It’s odd
and
I don’t know for certain
yet,
deep inside
there is a kernel of recollection
of my beginning

a breath, a gentle
wisp, and I
came into being,
no more important
than rock or star,
dandelion or dewdrop

and

I wonder
if I catch how true
rock and star and dewdrop
tender their design

while

I dissolve
my gossamer filaments tied
to the quickening exhalation of genesis

 

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaNoWriMo/NaPoWriMo:

“And now for our daily prompt (optional, as always!). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a creation myth. It doesn’t have to be an existing creation myth, or even recount how all of creation came to be. It could be, for example, your own take on the creation of ball-point pens, or the discovery of knitting. Your myth can be as big or small as you would like, as serious or silly as you make it.”

 

Milk Glass

by

napo2017button2

 

Day Eighteen

 

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Little you, that piece
of you, first bud
on lilac’s branch,
will bloom forth
without burden.

Little you, that
sadness you hold,
a milk glass trifle
of memory past,
will fade.

Little you, those
tears, rainlets to wash
away abandoned hope,
sun faithfully dawns.

Little you, you are
as vital as the least
imperceptible cell
and the most
eloquent planet.

Little you, rejoice
in you, for you are
perfect, simply
by your creation.

And that is all
that matters.

 

Author’s Note:

Not following the prompt today, but borrowing a word. Thank you, Vandana Bhasin.

Solidarity

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Day 18: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

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You gave me a wishing
stone from your great sea,
grey streaked with white
carved into lines across its face.

It took great patience to
become that constant stone,
a peace that escapes many.

It braved time,
now shows its bones
to make my wish upon.

May the patience of your creation
surround us in strength and surety.

May we know your pacific peace
and stay the course.

May we find one another as we
bare our bones in solidarity.

Simply…

by

 

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You are ordained by your creation
from our Holy Singularity,
cosmos infused with
each microscopic particle,
each microscopic particle
of You that is part of me
and you and you and you
and every…thing

Under sun’s brilliant rays,
heat warms, gives life,
we burn with passion

By moon’s radiant glow
we rest, we must rest without
fully knowing, releasing to all

With song of owl, wisdom
fills our empty space as
each sorrow is liberated

Along wolf’s path
patience learned,
faith in oneself
and strength in pack

On our bellies slide with
snake closest to Earth,
bendable, lithe to protuberance

Abreast of fox who plays in grasses
yet hears, knows one must be
aware of that which no longer serves

Crow glistens black
against crystalline blue,
we honor, hold one another deeply,
mourn our losses, never forget

Flowing with water
we make our way
silver threads encircle
Earth with life

Stand with preeminent tree,
together roots dig
into Earth entwined

And gaze above,
see our infinite selves,
stars, galaxies boundless,
yet bound to one another

We are ordained, simply by our Creation.

.

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Author’s Note:

Full Moon blessings.

Munay,

Lexanne

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hierophant

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unnamed

I slipped my harbored feet from shoes contained
for sixty years. Rough earth is ruthless where
calloused barrier was never ordained.
I walked on soles that burned and bled, a dare
to turn retreat. Instead, I asked for help
to bandage cuts. I praised a course fresh of
deliverance. Sores closed. Skin grew. A whelp
now strong and fast. I met cool shade, green grove.

But there I didn’t rest. More called to me,
unfurled a passage to my Beginning.
In confidence I accorded the plea,
Within myself I captured my bidding.

Not one holy man’s word over another
will heal our wounds, the pain we embrace.
Here in Creation we’re bound to each other
as we dance through the veil in grace.

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Author’s Note:

I truly believe it is the journey that is vital, not necessarily the end product. I like to share how I arrive. For those of you who are interested, below is the path of the end sonnet, Hierophant.

On August 13, I participated in the 2016 Poetry Marathon. I signed up for the 24-hour contest knowing that this was the end of the first week of school and I would probably not make it. I didn’t. But I did complete the half-marathon.

Each hour, on the hour for 12 hours straight, we received a new prompt. We had an hour to write to that prompt and post it before the next one showed up in our in-box. It is a wonderful challenge. Learning to let go of that inner editor, that ego who wants everything perfect. It’s a wonderful thing. That is what I also love about my writing group. We write knowing we are not going to be perfect, the importance of letting go, and the ability to chuckle at oneself.

To the prompt from the Poetry Marathon, I added one more piece. I keep a lovely tarot deck on my desk next to my computer. It is the Pentimento Tarot by Joanna Powell Colbert. She is an artist, Celtic spiritualist, and goddess who created this deck using the medium of beeswax encaustic – a layering of wax – a pentimento:

“An underlying image in a a painting, especially one that has become visible when the top layer of paint has turned transparent with age, providing evidence of revision of the artist. (American Heritage Dictionary via http://www.gaiansoul.com/.)

She only created the Major Arcana for this deck but it is stunning. It is of our ancestors looking back on us, giving us hope and support and wisdom. Take a look:http://www.gaiansoul.com/shop/pentimento-tarot/

Also, this month I wanted to do a study of sonnets. I did. I completed two. I shared the early one after my visit to Orlando’s Wizarding World of Harry Potter and the sea.

Here is the process of Hierophant:

The prompt from the Poetry Marathon in Hour 11:
Write a persona poem from the point of view of a person without a home. You can have a specific person in mind, or they can be entirely imagined. This person can be a homeless beggar, or someone who drifts from town to town, or someone who just can’t imagine settling in one place, so they don’t.

The Pentimento Hierophant card:
Of this archetype, Joanna asks questions such as “What do you have to teach?” “What do you have to learn.” “What is the place of religious tradition or lineage in your life? “Who do you trust as a spiritual teacher?”

Below is the poem as it appeared as I wrote it for the marathon. Above is the transformation of it into a somewhat sonnet form.

The Hierophant

I took off my shoes.
The ground was rough and poked.
I wore those shoes for almost sixty years.

I walked on feet that burned and bled.
I asked for help to bandage raw cuts,
was offered new ways of treatment.

Sores closed, thick skin grew and
my feet held me strong and steady.

I walked on legs that swelled and
I asked for help to ease the pain.
Good remedies followed and I
moved on.

In time

I took off my shoes to feel the earth
I knew the ground was rough
they burned and bled but I walked
to find soft grass and cool of shade

No roof above, I left it behind
No friends to share my sorrows
I looked for answers from voices
just shadows merging in darkness

But when I sat down, stopped
searching for the right way,
I stilled myself  and found
your voice inside.

We come to this place, a stop over
to ponder, to rejoice in each other,
and dance with abandon.

Not one holy man’s words over
another can heal the wounds
we bear, the pain we embrace.

We’ll move on, through the veil,
but for now we must play in
Creation and unmask one another.

Archeology

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Join me at JOURNEY/lex, a weekly pondering of poetry, mystics, and the world.

 

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1.

It is a madness where I dwell
deep within myself,
a place where some say
heresy resides.

It is the archeology of me
wherein the Echo of the
Universe dances.

2.

I do not turn You aside
or hinder as Creation yawns
a grand breath each dawn,
unfurls into every corner.

I come to You an empty vessel,
a mosaic of broken pieces
composed from night’s release.

Your golden hue haloes
a new beginning.

I am yours in this every day
spring, your beloved,
as You are mine.

 

You can read more at JOURNEY/lex.

Integer of Creation

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I.Moon

The moon hung, a bittersweet glow
cupped against midnight blue behind
boney arms of our grande dame maple,
whose leaves never turn red in fall,
only yellow then brown on fallow grass.

As I watched,
just past a new day’s first hour,
I could almost see her luminous
crescent rock back and forth drawing
my eye upward, higher, a need to tilt
my head back and forth to discern
Your gift through lacy silhouette
branches standing guard between
me and Eternity.

But she pointed me to it,
to a god always present,
maybe in a conflicting place
from one night to the next,
but always there, Jupiter,
a thunderbolt-bright comfort
knowing once and again
he would meet me.

I am created no more
or less perfect than these.
I hold within myself the same
wonder of stars and moon
and trees rooted deeply into earth.
I grow and change, not staying
in one place, although I have lived
in this same place all my life.

II.

When the world groans
under sorrow made
by hands of stone…

Not stone that changes
the course of rivers.
Not stone that greets
a wanderer along her craggy pass.
These stones are as Spirit filled
as every heart that beats…

But when the world groans
from counterfeit hands
made of false stone that cannot see
within themselves the utter sweetness
of the Beloved, nor the Beloved’s
consummate sweetness in souls
they stone, I feel pieces explode until
all that is left is blackness, a dark hole
so profound not even Jupiter
could spark a flame.

From where I stand
I must be what I am first made,
gentle light, devoted lover,
precious consecration of You.

My hands, made of Your passion,
must open
to each integer of Creation.

I cry out like thunder in the desert,
groan and writhe,
but know You will hear my prayer
and open our eyes
to our manmade
stone hands of annihilation.

May our prayers transfigure
our false hands
back into cupped hands
ready to receive Your timber.

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If you would like more on this poem, please join my weekly reflection at Journey/lex. It is a weekly newsletter that arrives in your e-mail in-box usually on Saturdays.

Thank you,
Lexanne