Gleanings: III

within the womb of winter 

travel to the self long-concealed 

find openings. but no way through 

is wellness possible in this world? 

keep seeking and discover darkness 

firelight (and a circle of women) 

creates quiet and discloses a centre 

that finally opens so 

reborn from the belly of winter 

the heart is ruptured, spilling, red red 

into a surging spring 

outside is where I go in 

to grow downwards 

to connect with the ground 

and root into dreams that flow with 

the shimmer-song of summer 

I become the opening I enter 

into the interior where 

birds sing and silence speaks 

and I am seen and see 

profusion 

can I mould my life to the shape of this vision? 

or will I forget infinity? 

sliding into autumn blue and loss 

the melancholy turning 

I trust my heart to the seasons 

even concealed again 

all worlds are connected and 

I am still journeying

(October 2023)

Gleanings: II

worn down and drowned
a nub of rough stone
entering the undertow
sinking down to be claimed
by the riverbed

submerged

cold water slips over the surface
of a small stone heart

what is the language of illness? of immersion in the undercurrent?

sounding out the depths of
the dim life down there
rolling with inner tides that riffle the mud
tugging at dreams that attempt to surface
dissolving what is known in the murk
softening in silt
gentling stone to quiet
darkness and deepening
inhabiting the liquid of malleability

there is no fixed point, only flow
even for stone
transformations in a ceaseless stream
a confluence of cool moving waters
soothing, wearing smooth

until the nub is grasped, fluent in the hand

(September 2023)

Gleanings: I

parted from self 

mind awry 

in dark grief and 

bound within 

enclosed spaces 

heart locked away 

opening up my chest 

singing out sorrows 

everything is black and red 

something ends then 

I want to shed my skin 

to discard the numbness 

I have used to clothe myself

and seek suitable blessings 

to hold my attention, to deepen towards – 

gentleness and flow and allowing 

I long to be borne by 

many hearts, many hands 

so I am carried 

still heart-sore, but knowing 

I am swimming in the body of love 

and if I start slowly from 

a low-to-the-ground place 

I find my frailty has been my strength 

opening, the fragile flower of hope 

for even what is lost might still seed

(September 2023)