Elizabeth, Coretta, and the Full Cold Moon

Day 8: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

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Steadily she swells,
burgeoning and lambent
even though she was cautioned –
never could she illumine the void.

They expounded,
she wasn’t brilliant enough.

Regardless, amaranthine and
at each turn, she inaugurates
with a sliver of a smile
and moves ocean tides.

 

Simply…

 

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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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember

When the grackles camegrackles
moon was complete
she shone full and luscious
with promise
and grackles filled themselves
full emptying the feeder
even the lost bits tucked
between pebbles and mulch

And season changed
coyote strode across my path
in morning sun
dipping into bushes and rushes
lining the creek
covering his route
hiding his purpose

I swept away spider web
entangled with yellow leaves
and twigs loosened in
fall’s first wind,
the portal closed, lost
to the chill of change

In balance of night and day
I reach to you beyond
the milky way where we
sit on edge, a simple swash
of light compared to
your dazzling beam

With your healing
I rise with those who
walk in One light, who
speak with One voice, who
dance in One joy with you.

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Author’s Note:

Seasons change. As do we.

The Autumnal Equinox revealed an opening to me. It seems that in this equal stance, balancing between dark and light, it is possible to see with more clarity while trying not to fall completely into either dark or light.

As I move into longer nights and colder air, of sleeping insects and sluggish crawly creatures who understand this rhythm, a rhythm I have forgotten, I find myself beginning to remember.

It is about remembering. It is nothing new to find or discover. It has always been a part of me.

I welcome this insight, this peace of mind.

As the mystic Julian of Norwich shared in her thirteenth showing – but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

And I believe if all manner of thing shall be well, then all IS well right now – in all manner of things.

Peace and Light,

Lex

Gentle Lunatics

 

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On the strand
there is something
so small, so diaphanous,
it’s hardly noticeable,
rawboned.
You would think it’s
not there, maybe extinct.
Yet, it is.

A beetle that scuttles
on the edge of garden bed,
a dangerous place to be
where beak reaches
in arrest.

What is left of her skin
snagged on twigs,
dry leaves, leaving
her vulnerable
but new, ready
to grow.

Fox embolden, not so
afraid of people
anymore,
those who pause…
then go their way.

On the fringe are
gentle lunatics who
don’t do it right,
who can’t be perfect,
but cleave to the
beat of their heart.

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Author’s Note:

New. Moon.

A time for rebirth. A time for seeing with new eyes. A time for finding you.

Frames. Borders. A time to let go. Break apart. Step into new being.

Aho,
Lexanne

 

 

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“ROOM WITH A VIEW”
by MN Dance Company
on 1Day1Dance on Facebook
(click on feet for video)

Lada and the Moon

Every so often our writing group meets. Yesterday we sat under the bliss of morning air while a mother duck and two ducklings wandered by. Flowers bloomed around us as we feasted on food that filled our bellies and communion with one another that filled our souls. I am so full of gratitude to have these women in my life.

It was my turn to bring the prompt. I work from images. I write a movie in my head with each poem or musing I pen. It’s who I am. Maybe because I am an actress or a child who sees the world in bright colors and story. I brought images from which each of us chose one. Then each of us offered a word that we had the option of using or not: sweet, suspicious, shadow, clumsy, ice, monarch.

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Lada and the Moon

Moon rested between the split of rock. Sweet sadness poured into the stream below. Lada wiggled her toes in the dripping as she ached for Moon and its tears of a clumsy affair gone awry. It was a shadow of her own.

The night cast its spell around Lada hiding trees and blooms, rocks and fractures. All that formed were sounds or scents – hoots and musty rose, bright eyes and scattering stones. She was safe, a monarch in this place of solitude interrupted only by that which wasn’t seen.

Moon’s bright face shielded all but the sorrow.

It was a cycle, her cycle, one she understood. Under dark Moon before the silver crescent kiss began to appear once more, there was always chaos in Lada’s life. It was as if they waited for the deep dark to come out and play.

Play was too easy a word. No, not play. Under dark Moon life released prisoners to do their deeds, revel in their piracies, prick her until she bled.

This was all she knew of dark Moon, suspended until silvered light issued its shape once again. She learned dark time was time to be still. She learned to watch, not jump. She mastered protecting herself, mostly. It was a hard study. She usually remained suspicious under dark Moon, at least until this last round.

Then, mostly, as the delicate sideway smile of light entered the new course, Lada could breathe more deeply. Her shoulders would drop, her jaw loosen. Hope and new ideas would grow more freely each fertile night. Her stride became smoother and in sync with afterlight music. As Moon grew fuller like a woman’s belly filled with life, she could sing again and smile. Moon’s luminous glow accorded to her once more, Lada overflowed with joy and danced her purpose under full-blessed glow.

Until now.

Tonight was different. Caught up in her exuberance, Lada forgot. She entered dark Moon time unguarded. And now full Moon rested between rocks, dripping its dream into the stream.

Lada could only watch, listen to Moon’s loss while her toes dabbled in moon-glow tears. An ice story she knew much too well.

Consecration

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I would pare it down.
I would do it all over again,
heal keen wounds
carved to make me fit.

I would do it all over again,
heel when I come to titanic doors.
If given a chance at the pair,
I’d stay in sun, not enter shade.

A chance, if I was given,
I would banquet on each juicy pear.
Again, I would do it over,
He’ll welcome my redesign.

Under skyward arm of branches wide,
feet bared to moss and stone,
tides brushing sanded earth,
and air a swirl of life I’d stand.

This temple granted all,
no one left aside,
no one banished by belief,
or refused by creed or rule,
all embraced in gifts profound.

I’d honor bird and bee,
beast and human.

I’d honor me, formed in grace
in perfect flame,
one hand in Yours, the other open,
one path for all to be.

May all walls crumble into gravel.
May all breathe in the depth of You.
And may we, everyone together,
walk each other home.

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Author’s Note:

Orlando.

Another one.

I am from Colorado and a first grade teacher, too many to list now.

I am tired of boundaries, lines drawn over and within religious belief systems. The whitewashing, justifications, excuses for the arming of those who live in fear.

There have been many touching, wise, angry, heartbroken words shared this week, much more eloquent than I can summon. They pass over me once again, yet not provoking change. The only thing I can change is myself.

A full Moon is Monday, the Summer Solstice. I join with others to welcome newness, wholeness under a moon given to all without sanction. I drop the conceptions of my past by embracing the new without fear. No more systems to alienate. No more boundaries drawn. The search is over.

I consecrate myself on a new path open to all.
I step into Oneness, Compassion, and Wisdom
under sky, feet grounded to earth,
in breath of air,
this temple given to all.
I honor myself as a mirror of the Divine in you
to recognize the Divine in me.

 

This is my chance to do it again, revised.

Lexanne

 

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