I am filled with an unnamed longing today, an existential sorrow that threatens to pull me into its undertow. I will let it roll. I will let it flow. Today, I will not be a vessel that holds water, I will be the pathway through which the waters flow…like the low ground in flood. Tomorrow, the waters will recede. They always do.
Category: Creative writing
Journal: The Dreamer
Journal: Anxiety Disorder, OCD, Globus Hystericus or rather The Tale of the Little Green Snake
These wild eyes don’t belong to me. They are too blue, too hard. Some fey wildness has crept into my veins and my blood rolls like a drumbeat, the pounding rhythm of a deer in flight. My hair flies from me on the stormwind, torn from its roots and smelling like honeysuckle. When Eurus hid his scream in my chest, it sent my heart banging like a trapped bird against its cage of ribs and breath. But all is quiet…there is no sound…the words that are stuck in my throat coil like a little green snake, content to have sanctuary.
We wait, Silent
Winter bird meditation and dreams of springtime dancing
Little bird, little bird hopping to and fro on the starry icesheet turning sunwise…
the sky is a silver veil shimmering crystal chandelier, reflecting the sheen of your wings.
You hold the dreaming world in your frosted feathers,
its song buried deep in your swelling chest…
waiting for the thaw…
waiting for nothing less than the heated embrace of the rising sun…
The Coyote Den
It’s always there isn’t it…this darkness? You can stave it off with trips to the thrift store or obsessive tarot readings or your kid’s laughter or a sunny day or visiting the river or a walk in the woods and you’re happy, you really are then holy shit, here comes the darkness.
The Coyote Den
I went to the woods to find peace
To head off the melancholy tap tapping at my windowsill
I should have known by the turn of the branches,
The scrape of the muscadine vine across my neck
What was waiting for me there.
But I was mesmerized by the shining silver trunks,
By the patchwork loam sewn together with greenbriar vines,
dotted with sweetgum balls.
I should have heard the train roar sound of darkness
Rushing towards me, like black smoke from an autumn trash burn,
But instead I knelt down to look more closely at an old coyote den
Four smaller tunnels leading in four directions,
all contained inside one larger dip in the earth.
I should have prepared for what was coming
For the sudden push and rumble as the darkness caught me in a tailspin
My heart, which had shone so brightly and in so many directions
Was filled with the night and I tumbled down into the den.
Into the Dark.
Treesway in the coming storm
my heart aches with longing
words lodge in my throat
in the secret places of my
It is a fey dance, this blue fire
there are messages in the earth
in the leaves that tremble in the stormwind
in the sway of my
Hair swinging low
I press my hands against my heart
for it will surely
beat right out of my
They come out, these children
Smelling of sunshine and graham cracker crumbs.
With their light filled eyes,
They laugh and scream-
“I feel unstoppable!”
Country mamas spill out of their bikinis.
Calling for Bubba, to come here right now!
While my girl does Interpretive Dance in her
saggy bottomed bathing suit.
I squeeze the water out of my heavy braid
and turn my face up to the
white sunlight, the
blue summer sky.