Wake Up Muse
Wake up muse,
it’s time to write.
Be brilliant,
sparkle,
dance on the page.
Make me laugh,
make me cry,
tell the truth,
tell a lie.
Use my words
as your piano.
Make music.
Banyan Tree
Take a peek
into this hole in the tree.
Get down on your knees,
look inside. It’s dark and quiet.
Glimpse at what’s hiding there.
Come here, try this keyhole.
Look inside your heart,
in the crevice you’ve closed off from the light.
Take a look at the knot you’ve tied
in the energy around your heart.
Wander into the tiny space that calls to you every day.
Comfort me. Hold my hand. I’m afraid.
Start at the hole in the tree,
get down on your knees, look into your heart.
Why Did I Go There?
Why did I go to…
Israel—to see my lover.
Greece—to explore the Parthenon.
Italy—to eat orecchiette in Puglia.
Turkey—to kneel in the Blue Mosque.
Haiti—to bring parts for a women’s radio station.
Guatemala—to work with Mayan weavers.
Kenya—to teach widows about money and orphans about photography.
Scotland—to study at Findhorn.
Nova Scotia—to meditate at Gampo Abbey.
Hong Kong—to observe the robotic electric parts factory.
Austria—to talk with Ambassador Swanee Hunt.
Cuba—to gamble at the El Capri Casinoa.
Canada—to speak French.
The hospitals—to birth my babies; to stop the hemorrhage; to visit my
daughters; to visit my mother who never came home; to visit my mentor who
never came home; to visit my lover who never came home.
The cemeteries—to be with the families of those murdered in the Bosnian
massacres; to bury my mother; to bury my friend’s mother; to bury my
lover’s mother; to bury my lover.
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image: pxfuel
