For my mother

Growing up with my mother
was like taking  a drive through foreign lands.
She brought me to places many never find.

Her heartbeat was the first sound I ever heard.
Enclosed within her I had no idea of the adventures
she would take me on.

She was honest. She was brave.
She held me in the face of my overwhelming father.
Her tears were full of compassion that I would come
to know as h er own special blend of light and dark.

I gave myself over to her.
She was my sherpa through a minefield
I followed her steps like a patient wanderer
wondering at her mind so smart and swift.

We held hands during gathering storms.
When I wept, afraid, she comforted me
with nightly prayers.

When kids bullied  and picked on me she
told me to pray for them.
"they don't know better"
I would pray to God, hoping to
teach them compassion for one who was different.

She took me to psychic fairs where I learned
the art of pyramid meditation.
she took me out on a dark night
to find Bigfoot in the deep, dark woods.

She taught me not to lie saying
"You're like Saran Wrap. I can see right through you.
Tell me the truth and the punishment will be less.
Lie to me and it will go worse for you."

I remembered that.
She tried to help me with my fears--held me close
when I cried--tried to understand me.

Nothing takes that away.
Not the ups and downs.
Not the hard times.
I just remember her voice--her sweet, soft touch--
her joy at my successes. Her kindness with my failures.
She was my guide through a bewildering wilderness.

For my mom on September 10, 2015

The Day Folds Down to Dark

The Day folds down
A tangled sheet draping the dark
Finding a place of my own
Crickets chirp, the clock winds down.

The buses and sirens and the unimaginable
business of life
Takes. A. Deep. Breath.
and inhales a bit of the night.

The glaring sun gone down to roost
I sit on my porch and drink in the quiet
as though I have been thirsty all day
for what I didn't know...until now
when there is a bit of time to write,
to draw and sing.

The business of day is finished
I cuddle the dark like a blanket
Shot through with deep blue skies
fading to black.

Coolness, peace and the drawing down of that curtain.
Sometimes it seems there is never enough time
To be. Not do. Just be. Here. In this moment.
A blessing of stillness.
Enclosing as deeply as though it were a cave.

I hide here in my quiet dark
A candle, my cats and this pen.

There have been many moments this week to absorb.
Some powerful. Some overwhelming. Some special.
I take them all in here in the dark.
They weave the pattern--the ins and outs of my days
and it is brilliant in it's complexity like a spider's web.

The world has been too noisy of late.
Glaring drivers, blaring horns, sirens
screeching "EMERGENCY!" through the streets.

But here. In the dark. In the quiet. It's just me.
No screens to watch. I soak in the simplicity.
I bathe in it.
Secure in the stillness my mind untethers
My heart...quiets.

I draw down the deep.
Drink it in.
Peace.