washed but not cleansed

the day lost–where did it go?  did it depart or disappear?
what summons took it away, left us hanging in empty wind?–
scattering bits of sanity like lost laundry, unflown birds

The prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 20 is to write a sijo.

The only thing I unpacked today after the movers left was the computer. I know I’m behind on reading posts, but will try to catch up in the next week.

Later and Later (a rant, but not a humorous one)

Don’t start with contrition–
how you didn’t mean to, how you
rue the results of the actions
that brought us all to this place
where it seems the only way forward
is to give up and be be swallowed
by despair.

Don’t answer every question with
the anger of guilt, an attack masking
the refusal to ever admit that you
knew the ending but thought
it would not be laden with consequences,
given the assurance that you
would be protected.  

You pretended not to see,
to know, to understand the evil
that seeps even through the walls
of superiority and raw fear
you built to keep yourself
untouched by what others
experience.

You dismissed the world
outside your circle, considered it
beyond your personal responsibility
or control, your conclusions
leaping into the arms of death
which has no loyalty to any time
or space.

Now what you didn’t do
or say or think about
expands to include the exclusive
as well as the excluded
to fade the fortunes
of both the lucky and
the lost.

The currents recognize no
artificial boundaries.
The transmission of sorrow
travels into every corner
of acceptance, denial, and bridge
that attempts to turn back, turn away,
or cross.

I know NaPoWriMo asked for a humorous rant. But my anger at the moment is not funny.

bending light

bare branches
so still
they turn to stone

and skip across
the water
rearranging

crosscurrents–
altering
form and function

The NaPoWriMo prompt for Day 18 is to “write a poem based on the title of one of the chpaters from Susan G. Wooldridge’s Poemcrazy: Freeing Your Life with Word“. I chose “bending light”.

how to breathe

The Oracle responded immediately to the NaPoWriMo day 17 prompt of the moon. And who could blame her? It’s always a good subject for a poem, in this case, a Badger’s Hexastitch.

moonsongs
treeroot between
the ancient wanderings
of night—follow secret
animal paths
earth deep

Also linking to earthweal open link weekend.

excavations

only
stillness remained
afterwards—everything
else unearthed, uprooted,
exposed into
absence

A badger’s hexastitch for Colleen’s #TankaTuesday with synonyms for the words provided by Jude: search and lost.

And because I’ve been neglecting the NaPoWriMo prompts recently, a short Skeltonic poem for Day 16.

The sunny day
has gone away–
I want to say
it’s not OK.

It’s been a very showery April so far. Hope that portends a very flowery May.

On Rambling/City Streets

Under concrete still lies the earth.
Am I bridged?  Do I travel on or over?
The air takes my thoughts and plays with them,
embroiders them, suspends them between.

Am I bridged?  do I travel on or over?
My fingers want to hold the windwhispers–
embroider them, suspend them between
the bare branches of the trees.

My fingers want to hold the windwhispers
that touch the moon on her journey
through the bare branches of the trees
into the fullness of the reflected light.

I want to touch the moon on her journey.
My own face is shadowed with uncertainty,
backlit by the fullness of reflected light.
My own hands are empty, unthreaded.

My own face is shadowed with uncertainty,
a landscape I too often inhabit.
My own hands are empty, unthreaded.
I keep trying to rearrange what isn’t there–

a landscape I too often inhabit.
I look for birds.  I want to ask them their secrets.
I keep trying to rearrange what isn’t there–
how to be someone that is also everything.

I look for birds.  I want to ask them their secrets.
How to dance across the invisible threads.
How to be someone that is also everything,
crisscrossing land sea sky stars.

How to dance across the invisible threads
that hold both concrete and earth,
crosscrossing land sea sky stars–
(the air takes my thoughts and plays with them)

This pantoum is definitely a work in progress. For NaPoWriMo day 15, and the earthweal weekly challenge: Toward an Ecopoetry.

Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by Sanaa.

shorebirds converge with the edge of the sea

moving the water
with my feet
I float on currents,
my shadow following
each intersection with light

not thinking
who or where
I am–
cocooned in myself
and threaded to the aliveness
of what passes me
passing

crossing waves tracks
of lines and circles
forming patterns–
greeting me meeting
myself, transiting

throwing time into the wind
and not waiting for it–
wandering
in place

Kim at dVerse asks us today to write a poem in the first person that compares some trait of ours with something animal. In addition, the title should be the animal thing,

abiding

If I became
the wind, I would be
breath itself–

no need to swallow
air and turn it
vibrating into sound.

I would be
the universal chord
transformed into stories

that appear suddenly
surrounded
by stars,

carried by
the voices of
cosmic seas.

I would speak
in parallel
with the trees,

listen
as they released
their wisdom

on the wings of
birds, woven
with ancient messages

still wild and waiting
to be translated
into form.

I would be
the light
reflected as sky,

the night’s
dark
mystery.

I would be
every song
all at once,

the portal
into what can’t
be seen.

Do you hear
the whispered
invitation?

It is the unbroken
promise of
the moon’s return,

the painted journey
of the sun hovering
on the horizon,

of the waters
that rock the ages
into safe harbors.

Will you follow?
Stand open
and still

and be
prepared
to fly.

I’ve been working on this poem on and off for awhile. And I may work on it again, but here it is, as of today.

To Our Mother

Who gives us life–
you have many names–

the seed, the root, the vine, the flower in the field,
the lily, the rose, the fertile garden,
the cedar, the cypress, the cherry, the tree of life,
the fountain, the dew, the living waters,
the cloud raining upon the earth,
the lighthouse, the harbor, the shell and the pearl,
the star of the sea, the cresecent moon,
the morning star, the air we breathe,
the cup, the vessel, the channel, the conduit,

the food of the spirit—

You need no kingdom.

You belong to everything,
the very elements that make up
the earth and the cosmos.

You bestow mercy and grace to all,
saint and sinner alike,
rejecting both power and glory,
vengeance and servitude.

May we honor your gifts
with gratitude and humility,
mending and treasuring
the fragile balance
that sustains them.

We remain, stubbornly,
Human

Dear Humanity,

Open your eyes and your hearts.
Honor and practice what preserves life
not what destroys it.
Take only what you need,
and return as much as you can.
Be patient and persistent
and don’t lose hope.

I remain, forever and ever,
Your Mother.

NaPoWriMo asks us today to write an exchange of letters.

Also linking to earthweal. Did you know it’s Earth Month?

close your eyes

I did have the NaPoWriMo prompt in mind today when I visited the Oracle. At least in terms of a song. My things are mostly in boxes, not drawers, at the moment–this is my third move in the last 18 months so it’s all junk now. I was also thinking how much I would like to just take an entire day and do nothing but sleep. Which led me to James and Joni. And the Oracle obliged.

all I want
is to sleep beneath
a still sky–
a shadow
of whispered light on water
moondreaming the wind