ALWAYS THE GARMENT

Quiet and a lit candle.

Time and whispered

yearnings. Anchors

to the moment.

These are the fabric,

the warp and weft,

the pull and pump,

of a living rhythm

I weave

by being creating,

by settling into

a space I make

like a garment

that keeps me

safe and warm

in winter

and always,

if only I remember

to sit down before

the loom of Now.

IDENTITY THEFT

I woke up this morning

and felt like

I had been ransacked

in the night.

I felt like a part of me

was missing.

And then I remembered

what I had done

the night before

and who I was with

and that everything,

everything that happened,

and the loss
that came with it,

came from the choices

I had made.

It was then I knew

that I was the thief

in the night, that I had

stolen from myself again.

HOMONYMS

If we don’t see

the idea of SKY

in the open sore

and suffering

within a wound

we can’t soar.

If we only

pine and whine

about the depth

and darkness

of the hole

we’re standing in

and forget

we’re actually in

a WELL, well then 

there’s no way we will

feel whole and at one

with ourselves.

We must be with

where we are, always—

listening for the here,

in what we hear,

the experience,

strength and hope

that’s at the core of

who we are. In other words:

we need to look

for the living

homonym hidden

inside our humanity.

The name 

in anonymous.

THE OVERCOAT

I hang dormant 

in the cave of your closet.

I am a beast

waiting for the season

to wake me.

For you to

finally have

a need for me,

my girth and length.

Climb into me 

like a lover. Let me

surround you,

the whole of you,

like a lover,

so you become the man

you are meant to be.

Wear me like a king’s cloak.

Winter is coming.

Together we will

stand fortified

against the besieging storms.

Claim your kingdom

and the gold inside

one jeweled button at a time.