Transformation

April 15, 2017 by leximagines

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Day Fifteen

Besieged by blazing light
as one door closes,

there is an in-between
obscurity, a light blindness.

A consuming fear. Another
debilitating call to surrender.

It is in this constancy, in trust,
I accede my acclimation.

Author’s Note:

Missed a couple of prompts this week….life

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last, but not least, here’s our prompt for the day (optional, as always!). Because we’re halfway through NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that reflects on the nature of being in the middle of something. The poem could be about being on a journey and stopping for a break, or the gap between something half-done and all-done. Half a loaf is supposedly better than none, but what’s the difference between half of a very large loaf and all of a very small one? Let your mind wander into the middle distance, betwixt the beginning of things and the end. Hopefully, you will find some poetry there!”

Warrior

June 11, 2016 by leximagines

Do you know the tenacious bee,
one who moves from bloom
to bloom without fail, without
regret, without losing faith…

Do you know water as it
runs cold from snowed
peaks, down to settle in
low places, without question
to its purpose, without fear…

Do you know the sun as it
pushes above the horizon
without falter, without doubt
since before time that we remember
until time when it is burned out…

Do you feel your heartbeat,
a gift given, one you cannot
contain, one that speaks to
you in every moment, at each turn,
in every breath, unwavering passion…

Warrior,
one who does not abide in fear,
acknowledges its impossible grip,
but leaves it to shrivel unfed.

Warrior,
who is built on faith.

Warrior,
who opens space
for that which will be,
that without ego.

Warrior,
who trusts and moves
in rhythm of heartbeat.

Warrior
who releases all to the One who Is –
a marriage without question,
a union of tenderness,
a hand fasting of strength
to move a mountain,
if such a thing be needed.

You are warrior,
born to trust,
made to honor,
sent to be you.

.
.
.

Author’s Note:

I once had a discussion with one dear to me who when I read a poem about being a warrior, a dismayed looked came upon the face of my friend. It must have seemed unlike me to consider myself a warrior. In my friend’s mind, possibly, understanding a warrior to be one of violence.

If I place myself into a historical context I would probably be a hippie – peace and love and all that jazz. I struggle with eating meat, wearing leather, supporting the zoos. Trash. Oh, the waste. I don’t seem to have anything warrior about me, in the traditional sense of war.

Today I was once again presented with the idea of warrior – one of strong conviction, not violence; respect and honor, not ego.

To be a warrior doesn’t mean I am going to pick up a weapon. On the contrary, I see no purpose at all in carrying guns. Yes. That includes hunting. No war. No pesticides. No boxing or football. No winners or losers. No Game of Thrones or even Harry Potter. Violence is much too pervasive in all we do. I know. I eat meat. I love Harry Potter. I am working on this contrary life of mine.

But I am warrior.

Some call it stubborn. I am also a Taurus. Maybe that plays a part.

In these past four years, especially since January, I have come to acknowledge and embrace my Warriorself – in my faith, in my love, in making my life along a new path. I embrace new ways, ideas, and thought that aren’t new but ancient. And people who are of nature and see our Holy One in all and in everything have stepped graciously into my life. No boundaries or creeds to accept or hide within. Just opening, opening to all in wonder and joy. No fear. No fear.

It is astounding. The path is wide enough for everyone. The gifts to share are stunning if I quiet myself like a warrior, learn to listen, really hear and understand. Stay open to whatever may happen. Make room for those new voices and their gifts who are presented to me, and to welcome all.

It is not perfect or easy, but I am not giving up.

I am warrior.

I hope my friend understands.

May you stand in stillness,
warrior, listening deeply
to our Holy One’s voice.

May you walk in lightness,
warrior, in honor and
respect of all life,
all that is holy.

May you see with eyes
wide and free,
warrior, open stance
accepting of the gift Divine.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Aho,
Lexanne

Above is Luna, my new rattle.
I love the gift of her into my life.
Made of leather, sitting on leather.
Oh, my contrary life.
One side is this lovely deep blue signifying the dark Moon.
And, then, the other side is ever so lightly tinted blue
for when she is full.

Warrior dancer Gillian Murphy
Photo by Ken Browar and Deborah Ory, NYC Dance
Found on Musetouch Visual Arts Magazine, Facebook.
Project.https://www.facebook.com/nycdanceproject/timeline

“The two basic qualities of warriors
are sustained effort and unbending intent.”
by Carlos Castaneda | Artist unknown
From Dreamwork with Toko-pa
on Facebook

Suspension

April 28, 2015 by leximagines

It’s that place I came
to realize was always there,
well, maybe not always, or
maybe that didn’t matter, it
met me, just me, it waited for
me to take that last step, or
was it the first step, onto its
hold, the deck I couldn’t see
through fog, or was it tears,
I trusted and licked the final
footfall off solid ground
that was safe but no longer
held promise, just pain,
or was it emptiness, and I
advanced from embankment
onto bridge that joined me to
something I couldn’t see,
I didn’t need to see, because
I accepted you would be there,
I was brave in myself to take
the leap, course ahead,
span your footway
suspended over an abyss,
delicately balanced
in your hallowing,
and never looked back.

Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 28. Sigh. Only two more days.

“And now for today’s prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges. A bridge is a powerful metaphor, and when you start looking for bridges in poems, you find them everywhere. Your poem could be about a real bridge or an imaginary or ideal bridge. It could be one you cross every day, or one that simply seems to stand for something larger – for the idea of connection or distance, for the idea of movement and travel and new horizons.”

Expectation

November 15, 2014 by leximagines

It came today. I knew it would,
the tracking notice told me to expect
its Saturday arrival.

But the day took over. Food prepared
to feed the stomach as well as the soul,
if done properly.

Notes written by hand and on keys fleetingly
tapped, heartfelt and true. Calls made,
clothes laundered, little time for promises.

When it arrived cold had settled with grey
day clouds shaking flakes into air so frigid
only a powder covered the walks.

I knew it would be there when time
allowed. It would wait for me tucked
safely away where no thief could reach.

But I must follow the path, do what is
needed, finish the job. In trust I worked
to complete the day.

Wrapping my neck against the wind,
gloving my hands, my coat and hat
encircled me against the chill.

A walk to the mailbox in tranquility
of winter snow. Hurried steps anticipating
the arrival slowed, then halted.

The muffled calm, snow’s offering. A quiet
accented by glistening white. Icy breath
filling blood-warmed lungs.

One can never fully conceive in expectation.
It takes trust, patience. Stillness. You never
know what gift truly awaits your arrival.

Author’s Note:

My pastor, Fr. Scott Jenkins at A Church of the Holy Family, and I are writing prayers for a Celtic Mass. It is a once a month mass and will be themed around Advent and Mary and Elizabeth. Expectation, conceiving, trust, and birth are words we having been exploring.

Today, a new book arrived. I didn’t have time to get to the mailbox until the evening following a very busy day. I am always amazed at how the Spirit weaves through my life.