Red

Red

Sisters Sun and Moon, detail by Lex Leonard

 

You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.
Sun hides behind clouds longing to shine through,
except that she wouldn’t.

Unable to warm soil, words hinder
poppy sprouts anew.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.

Memories held inside her frame injure.
She longs to break the glass of that view,
except that she wouldn’t.

A spark of flame leaves but only a cinder,
too dark to see what she really knew.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.

His words she gathers unhindered
and places them carefully to later pursue,
except that she wouldn’t.

New moon gives rise for her to surrender
to stillness within safe solitude.
You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red.
Except that she wouldn’t.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Oh, the poetic form! It’s always worth a try.

From today’s NaPoWriMo challenge…

The classic villanelle has five three-line stanzas followed by a final, four-line stanza. The first and third lines of the first stanza alternately repeat as the last lines of the following three-line stanzas, before being used as the last two lines of the final quatrain. And to make it an even more virtuoso performance, Dargan’s alternating lines, besides being taken from songs, express “opposing” ideas, with one being about sleeping, and the other waking.

Following Dargan’s lead, today we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates at least one of the following: (1) the villanelle form, (2) lines taken from an outside text, and/or (3) phrases that oppose each other in some way. If you can use two elements, great – and if you can do all three, wow!

My lines are taken from a book I am currently reading. I picked it up, opened to a random page and pointed. There were the two lines side by side from The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah that just happened to be “opposing” ideas. I kid you not: You’ll look pretty as a picture in this, Red. Except that she wouldn’t.

Inked

During the blue hour before sunriseebfb7717b473789c37482ed2001b7635.jpg
when endings come, it’s easy at first

to explain them away – he really didn’t
love me, it was time to move on. Easier

than acknowledgement, a needle
inked with black, a road forged in

memories, cleansed in tears.
Each prick joined to the next creating

an indelible canvas ready for pigment,
deeply etched into tender soft skin,

first a wound, then a healing, finally
a brilliant map to somewhere fair,

all designed from an end point.
When death holds out her hand, I draw

her near to me for balance and plunge
into untried genesis with the rising sun.

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Author’s Note:

I grabbed death’s hand much too often these past few weeks. From the passing of a child in my school, to the loss of a husband of a dear friend. The one-year anniversary of my father’s journey through the veil and several more, I am a bit numb.

And it is not just physical deaths that bit me. Loss this month in many other ways has, strangely enough, kept me balanced. I am learning that there will always be an end. An end I probably won’t see coming. But when the night fades into daylight, as it always will, just as the moon waxes and wanes, I can move ahead knowing the cycle will repeat itself and all will be well.

Surrender, release, being present in the moment, have been themes here for a while now. It must be the winter, the dark, a time for solitude, reflection, and rest so when spring comes, there will be clarity.

Namaste, my friends, you are the Light in this world. Shine.

Lexanne

P.S.

I’m turning sixty in May. The above image is of a tattoo found on a Serbian ice maiden who was found fairly well preserved. It is a powerful image for me. My Slavic genes find it stunning. I’ll let you know if I take the plunge into a new genesis.

If you would like to receive a bit of my poetry and reflections each week, please sign up for my newsletter JOURNEY/lex. I would love to share with you.

Sunrise by Brian Crain

Night Season

Night Season yieldsIMG_3039
an interval, a time to peel
away layers, winter clothes
stratified around my being
stripped off in complete
namelessness,
leaving me tender, naked.

Night Season.

It furnishes still space
to be without shape of being,
ego unable to structure
itself around, within my
unformed substance.

In this hallowed dark I release
all that encumbers me
to see your glow, feel the
shine of your precious face
conscious that you matter.

There I watch your hand hold
something so dear, so full of trust,
I fill with Unbearable Light.

Night Season.

You demand of me
what I cannot do alone.
In You I surrender to
Your proposal of radiance.

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Author’s Note:

If you would like to see the entire reflection, it is available in my weekly newsletter. Sign up here. There is no cost and is usually sent on Saturdays. Thank you, Lex.

Diviation

It was a mud pie, dusty ground swirledDSCN1255
into water from a brass nozzle. I mixed
a thick concoction to please my eye.
Delicious would never be an
accurate description.

I found the ones that sparkled
hidden among plain granite pebbles,
quartz chips, slips of mica, only those
that caught my eye were treasure
for my pocket.

I peddled hard uphill, long
and slow, patient for the payback,
quick though it be, a fly down,
foot push paused, eyes squinting
against summer air across my face.

Ease of childhood’s wonderment
weeps efficiently through my grasp
to leave behind hardened opinions,
germane novelties, stilled wheels.

I set aside wide-eyed wonders
where magician coins awed,
grass stained knees scouted out
crawlies, tender arms rocked
a goodnight tale. I forgot
there is no need to orchestrate.

I turn back, shake off the dust,
open my palms,
liberate my tunnel vision
to meet your sweetness
once again,
eternal anticipation
of my return.

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Author’s Note:

“Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” Mark 10:15

As I grew into adulthood, I left behind something dear. The wonder of play and nature became a frivolous activity left for vacation time. But the more tragic part of growing up was assuming that I needed to control my life. I forgot the freedom of leaving my worries in the hands of someone more compassionate and wiser and loving than myself. I forgot there is Someone who knows me inside out, my needs, and what I can be.

I believe our Holy One gave us our child time to get good practice in surrender, leaving worry to itself. It was the time to trust and learn to live with abandon the gifts we’ve been given.

May I fall back into childhood simplicity,
that I may see your face, feel your embrace
and know all is well.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Lexanne

Pilgrim

I release to You all that is fear.napofeature3

I surrender my breath
to be filled with your life.

I still myself so I may hear
your heartbeat.

I settle within your compassion
to see others the way you see me.

I rest, held in your palms,
in the wideness of creation.

It is not my design, but yours.

May I let my wild being
flare in your fire, purified.

May I realize myself
in your presence.

May I walk my path side by side
knowing we are One.

May I heal in your sacred unfolding,
trust deeply, dance lightly,
revel with abandon.

May I lay down who I was,
and accept your Grace to become.

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NaPoWriMo Day 30 The end.

As in all endings, there is always a new beginning.

Wonder

If we stand in one place and never move,
if we brick our house around us,
we will never see the wonder that
has been gifted to us.

Wonder changes as the seasons, grows
and wanes. At times there is joy, other
heartbreak. If we are safe behind high
walls of surety, we will never feel Wonder.

Only when we let go to Wonder,
the changes, embrace questions so
we can look for answers, only then
we come face to face with Wonder,
only then we see.

Be Wonder-filled, do not be afraid.
Light is always there, unchanged,
with love, deep love that never
changes. Be you, that’s Wonder.

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Author’s Note:

I wrote this for a friend, one who inspires me. I don’t think this friend will mind that I am sharing it.

There seems to be a theme today on social media. This fits. I am always amazed at how things fit.

A prayer by St. Teresa of Avila comes to mind, also. I use it as part of my daily passage meditation. this is a translation by Eknath Eswaran, founder of the Blue Mountain Center for Meditation.

Let nothing upset you,
Let nothing frighten you.
Everything is changing.
God alone is changeless.
Patience attains the goal.
She who has God lacks nothing.
God alone fills every need.