Rhythm

layed you on my breast
eternally pressed on my shoulder now
the days turn to longer days
the micromoments of me and you

the rocks; you rocked me
you expected me to be there, so i was
and we will never be so entwined again

your hands are bigger now
reach for more than before
imprints of us locked inside my jaw

you could cut someone with your eyes
you sliced me in half
i was looking up at the white ceiling
motionless; why did i want to do this again

rewind
splash on the floor
you dancing as you do
rhythmic and hard

you weren’t even crying
i wasn’t either
it wasn’t our romance yet

you would take and i would give
it felt endless, but there was a beginning
there was an end; there always is
now, you breathe the life into my throat

Photo Cred

Icy Beauty

i’m drifting on a swooping patch of fluff in the cabin of a hot air balloon
fumes catching to the wind in their trail, catching to me; so i jump
gliding down to earth’s rusty terrain with my parasol in hand, and my debt in the other

Icy Beauty

i’m drifting on a swooping patch of fluff in the cabin of a hot air balloon
fumes catching to the wind in their trail, catching to me; so i jump
gliding down to earth’s rusty terrain with my parasol in hand, and my debt in the other

tip toeing as not to split the thin glaze beneath the arch of my foot
every creek and corner shattering my insides, scooping their seeds onto a plate for all to see; so i carefully slough them to the end of tomorrow’s table

my toes point as i plié through marshlands
concentrating on getting every move right
squatting and covering for the night in a deep bog
need to stop, but must keep going

trudging away in a buttery jam
everything around me sticking to my legs
the mud forms a permanent home in my soul
think I’m moving forward but we are just walking in circles

stomping on nature’s icy beauty
remiss to the bear trap’s; i know where they are now
unabashedly audacious in my tall winter boots

crumbly bite of wind on my face; i forge ahead in fearless fashion
my eyes eating anyone in my path; my hands absolving the past reckage
storm warnings ahead, but i firmly stomp on

the sky ruptures in two and her tears bathe the mountains
goosebumps form all over as the tantrum embraces my skin
they tell me to hold on, but i let go as i float down her brooks
an ethereal sense absorbs me as i dive into an unruffled cove
my parasol seems to appear as if it never left; it was waiting for me here all this time

Photo Credit

Sipping Solstice Tea

I used to hold the dark, beaten bird in my hands, gripping it close to my heart; fearful of letting that tiny beast go. But tonight, as I looked up at the slice in the sky, I felt comfort by the ever fulfilling promise of metamorphosis. Of change. Of the feeling that it is only the beginning.

I sit in solitude before an udon platter and house sushi roll special; I feel my back stretch with dignity and pride. There may have been a time where the anxiety might have devoured me…eating in a restaurant alone.

Chopsticks in hand; I am fully embodying my self on this winter solstice. Halfway through, I realize I ordered too much Chinese food [can one ever really order the proper amount of Chinese food?!], and I’m not going to force myself to keep eating. I’m listening to my body’s voice. My voice.

I called on my babysitter tonight specifically to do some solstice ritual and reflecting. My conclusion: I’m proud of what this year has shown me about myself. Proud of who I am. May not be a revelation for some, but it is for me as the dark moon lays on a golden sliver above the small-town-America restaurant… I sit here with a stark acceptance of the darkness I have danced out of. I honor it as the traditional Asian flutes play overhead.

I used to hold the dark, beaten bird in my hands, gripping it close to my heart; fearful of letting that tiny beast go. But tonight, as I looked up at the slice in the sky, I felt comfort by the ever fulfilling promise of metamorphosis. Of change. Of the feeling that it is only the beginning.

Steam crawls off my China tea cup, and I pour myself another flowery round. I’m in no rush. Dammit, I deserve this tea. I deserve to enjoy it. I envelope the crux of my evolution as I take another sip. The discount wine on old, laminate paper to my left doesn’t tempt me. I don’t need a drink to validate me. I don’t need anything to validate me anymore. I just am.

The waitress delivers my fortune. Forgive the action, forget the intent; the words evaporate into the universe. Do you mind if I have an orange? One I will endow the bare branches with on my way out. As I bow down in sheer disbelief at the magic of this life.

Photo Credit

The Seasons

stretched thin in the undertow
caught between a fisherman’s reel and cast
feet wrapped in the anchor
drifting; drowning

The Seasons

set out on a midsummers sail
knee deep in the tumbling winds
belly up on the underbelly of a whale
coasting; free

stretched thin in the undertow
caught between a fisherman’s reel and cast
feet wrapped in the anchor
drifting; drowning

coexisting in the crusty waters of fall
eyes set to the shoreline
wavering gaze
cold; lost

it’s below freezing
in the depths of february’s afternoon
head smacked to the shore
where the tide came in and the crabs roam
with a fist full of blood and a heart full of sand
choking on the grains of yesteryear
tired; ashamed

booeys cast in shallow wave
thickly painted big wooden chairs set for tomorrow
seagulls scattered on a merciful may morning
searching; humble

pink rays drift and the sun sets on june
as you toss back a prayer and ride home
as you set your compass for home
as you gather your sand dollars and walk home
as you set free your shells and swim home

as you plunge the waves and sink home

Written by: Mary Ehlers