these are turbulent times
make no mistake
life chose us to be alive now
now
and we just have to find a way
together
together
together

sometimes
when the rain comes
it feels like 
a tsunami crashing in
waves churning at the heart of 
my soul
other times
i laugh
take my clothes off
and dance

i'd rather die in the fire
than smoulder at the edge
of destruction
drown in a lake of desire
place my head on the block
rip out my heart and
let you hold it in your hands
let you do with it what you will

i'd rather dance at the very edge
till i'm drunk with uncertainty
i'd rather stand in my nakedness before
myself
raw and unclean
imperfect and painfully
human

before i settle for anything
but my

truth

if i was a stone 
i would sit
and wait
and nothing 
would be bad
or good
and life would go on

if i was a conscious human
i would see the stone
i might touch it, admire it
and then i would do whatever
my heart told me
to evolve humanity.

♥

the name of this poem is the blessing is next to the wound
it's something a dear friend told me
he didn't make it up, it's an african proverb
but he's the one who taught me about wounds
and blessings

it's in the wound
the deep, ugly, festering gash
oozing blood and pus
aching, itching, never healing
longing to heal
aching some more

where we must rise
when we just can't take it anymore
we hear ourselves sing

i swim for my life
some days
doggy paddle to shore
coughing, gasping
shake it off
and dive in again
chasing the birds
across the lake
as if i'm ever going to catch that fucking bird

but i keep trying

i pretend i don't know anything
but really i know everything i need to know
i saw it in victoria park
when we occupied love
when my heart opened to
possibility

put that on a fucking powerpoint
spreadsheet
agenda
policy document

my soul dances when i hear 'we'
when 'we' occupy
the whisper 'we' have seen
when 'we' imagine what is possible
when we seduce our desires

on this night of darkness
let's all open our hearts to the light
to the blessing next to this terrible wound

because in my woundedness
in my suffering
i felt the pain of the earth
i inhaled the sorrow of humanity
i made love to grief
i held dirt
where flowers grow
i felt the seeds

and put them back
i get it now
bury roots and learn to soar

ohhhh solstice

solstice is upon us
ready your souls
open your hearts
cleanse your minds
occupy the depth of reality
that you only caught 
a glimpse of
yesterday

don't be afraid
to pick the wildflower
that grows
in a crevice
between two rocks
that spot has been barren before
it will grow
glorious life
again

they are militarizing our democracy

and we are lining up like sheep
to let them do it

let your eyes guide you
home
to your heart

and then you will know what to do

i am the dreamer

and i have the answer
the glorious, magical answer

and i will tell you the answer
when you are ready to hear it

get your
self

ready

high
on condor's wing
atop a wistful crescent moon
cascading stars shoot across the milky way
soaring beyond tomorrow drops of yesterday
complete the mystic sky
in moments of desire
 in solitude contradictions in deep longings
 longing to soar
longing to heal
to be seen
to be loved
to be set free
 beginnings and endings
the gift of the great bird
commander, creator destroyer
messenger to the gods
carry our prayers
teach us the ancient mysteries of life and death
and then come home
 to rest

i have been waiting to die and i think tonight i sucked my final breath clinging hopelessly to the bumper as the truck speeds away is not an option too slow and painful instead i take myself i take myself to the moon to the stars and i ask, quietly please what will you have me do

intermittent raindrops
cool my skin
like
the intermittent teardrops
on my soul
i am me
and not me
leaning in
listening
and boldly moving forward
honouring truth
that whispers love
no faking this dance tonight

what creature springs forth
on a stormy night
in november
what creature springs forth
from a stormy heart
in november

sideways
the full moon smiles
orient yourself
to see
we wish upon ourselves
the multitude of the stars
yet when we reach
we let truth slip
through fingers
uncertain

yes it's 3am
and yes i am not sleeping
yes i need you


there is an uprising in my heart
cascading from my lips
to you
to everyone


it's not business as usual
it can never be again
until every baby's belly is full
until every dream is imagined
until pathology is buried beneath greed


i will dance

occupy truth

trying
to latch my longing
onto the tail of the occupation
slipping each time i grab
but always falling
forward

grrr when the uglies set in
and your guts want to spew
green gobs of phlem
but another part says
'oh on, not the phlegm!!!'
but you want to spit it anyway
and at first you hold it in your stomach
as it aches and turns
and you think you can keep it down
but it still biles up
and you spew it
all over who is listening
and seeing and feeling
and to your surprise
they wipe it off
and say
wow, man
what's the next line

we need to get it right
sink down into the very core
of our being
and discover
'what is being asked of me'
wallow in the uncertainty of
the complexity of life
only then
will we respond
without the uniform
without the mask

occupy truth
witness to spontaneous wonder
as my parents sleep at the wheel
i am melting into this
luxurious space
and my wild soul
is captivated
by possibility, connection
and love
fucking occupy truth
and claim what is ours
this is the collapse
the beginning
occupy love

pregnant moon
and displaced people
in every mirror
body and earth align
in sultry
mystery

as the starry sky
gently unfolds
against my weary eyes
familiar patterns
dancing, shining, falling
shifting
i remember

tomorrow

tomorrow
it only matters
how well we loved
the day before

always pushing for change
sometimes it feels too fast
but the brakes
just don't fucking work

i am now certain
i will find the love of my life
in a mosh pit

thank you dirty rocker
heart cracked wide open

thank you
for letting in
the moon tonight

the abject lack of humanity
found on any supermakert
magazine shelf
is enough to
make me
vomit

but when we ignore the cries of
starving somali babies
and their mothers
libyian torture victims
palestinian concentration camp
prisioners

and jet ski on.....


it's time to crack some
skulls open

i have been waiting for this poem
to flow through me
waiting as my guts churned
like an angry sea
yearning for serenity
in a sheltered bay
but that is not my way
the storm is mine to dance
tonight i watched
as heavy dark clouds
ripe with foreboding woe
gave way to the most
glorious clearing
to reveal what was always there
shimmering crescent moon
hung by threads of wisdom
a sliver of possibility
your transition
connected in mystery
with my own
like the tapestry of the stars
lays before you
in an invitation
to your initiation
the sky writes our stories
as they are birthed
as you were on this day
from gaia's womb
i've been waiting for the whisperings
to bring forth the words
and i realize i must say nothing
i must only
be
to create the container
for your
free
fall
so jump, sweet lover
you don't need my hand
the wise reflection gazing back
is waiting for you

i am on my porch
trying to write
caught in the balance of joy and sorrow
each the source for its own river of tears
pooling at my feet
i pick up the phone to call you
but can't find my voice
swallowed up by this stormy sea
of mystery



your singing from the chickadee's mouth and into the tree
from the belly of the earth into the clouds
from your prayers to my wounds
from the reflections into what is yet to come
from here to there
from my shattered soul to a speck of hope sketched
in the skin of the lake


these words open a floodgate
river of tears gushing forth
for you, for us
for vivien
for all the love lost
found, lost
for our children
whose lives are so deeply affected
by who we are
and who we are becoming
for my mother forever the victim of her own life
for the endless struggle towards truth
and justice
for all of earth's babies
who suffer
paths intricately entwined on an endless journey
of the soul
i bow deeply to the goddess
and allow her river to wash over me
bathe me in this painful beauty
surrender to her wisdom
and acknowledge my place in this new beginning
like the chickadee nesting in her new little house
carefully preparing her bed of love
i sing her song
breathe it in like magic moondrops
on my tongue
and perched atop my heart
i will reach for the mirror
and wait for its reflection
"life isn't about surviving the storm....but learning how to dance in the rain."


Love after Love


The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again
the stranger who was yourself
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror,
Sit. Feast on your life.

Derek Walcott




Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

the wounded sky cries my name
and i want to go to her
this earthly body
wandering the streets of
absurdity
this can't be real this can't be real
why must i live among
the very things i want to destroy
my insanity or theirs

when your body moves in me i understand
but the wounded sky is calling
indigo child borne of no one
star baby sipping the milky way
healing nectar
earthly nomad and gypsy soul
what is this cruel joke
i don't belong here
go and heal the world my dear
one day son
we will find each other at the crossroads
happy to hear about maryemma
mas besos


nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn


engaging in all these
mundane struggles of life
is my meditation
my way to absorb my many projections
of self
so that i can get busy with the real work
of me
i scrub the floor to empty my mind
so real thought can enter
clear the chatter and imagine
it's all about connections
and interconnections
more and more i see
as your friend yusif sees
and others too
webs and porches and lovemaking
that's really all we need
aaaaaaahhhhhh
want to talk and listen and laugh and make loveand talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love and talk and listen and laugh and make love....................................................................................................................

dearest wondered
awakened princes of the dark
you belong to nobody
not even what breaths beneath your skin
no home but the Universe
no law but eternity
receive my humble kisses
a good night wish is all i have to offer
.. for now

dear sweet wanderer
gypsy souled and wide eyed
your belongings now
are trust and faith
your home is
hope
tinged with sorrow
for possibilities unimagined
into reality

yet shooting stars
bursting with ancient wisdom
tell another story
of manifested dreams
and deep pools of love
flowing in a river of tears
joy brushes the cheek
of pain
and angels dance
as you begin
coming home



dream weavers
are the keepers of the universe
the poets and the dancers
actors and lovers
shake the ground
with creative force
waking gaia's spirit
keep packing, keep imagining, keep loving
even when it's hard
because there is always
something else

so i used to say i didn't write because Artaud had already writen what I could..
now i don't write because your imsomnia will do it for me instead
yes i know these reflections and understand these words
i share the abundance of your emptyness
the love of the impossible even though i always seem to manage to have a foot in both worlds
we were not only dropped by our mothers duirng infansy
but dropped by the universe head first

only us the lonely souls can build a community with such eficiency
you have really build it conveniently near you
mine is everywhere and nowhere
yours cmes to the porche and gets drunk and takes your kids to school when you are sick or busy
my communities are sudden communities that last from an hour to a few days

the thread of inderterminency
whuaooooooooo
thats quite a concept
an indetermined concept
like life and love and death
i picture you brushing your teeth
with no meditation tape but somekind of other music
washing your delicate fingers
ready for a short session of solace
self inflicted GOZE
i seem unable to enjoy

i imagine you in action
and that seems enough for this moment


you always make me think.....i wanted to tell you more about my
journey this year. my first year alone, ever, despite feeling alone
my whole life. i have no answers, just consciousness about the state
of my soul...the holes that can't seem to be mended, no matter how
strong the thread, the adoration i receive that is somehow not enough,
the lovers that try to fill a cup that is always empty...
i have begun to wonder if i am meant to be alone, even though what i
long for most in life is connection...i say i want a partner, someone
to shre my life with...just not THAT one, or that one, or god forbid
that one.....i don't want to fuck it up....such an oxymoron since
others see me as a community builder, and i am, and i know i have
created an amazing community around me, and they fill me in so many
ways, but still they don't in some other, indescribable way...so
instead i choose many. i take from each precious person in my life
the gift that they bring to me, i accept it and i am grateful and in
many ways it fulfills me....and yet....

and why do i love you as i do...a man who has no roots, who promises
me nothing, who takes what i give with nothing for certain in
return...why do i choose to continue to give to you rather than the
others who promise forever...why do i choose to give to you when i
know that we both will and do love others..why do i place such
importance on a thread of indeterminency...is it because ther is
something in my soul that understands that indeterminency is all that
truly is....that when we hold on is the exact moment that things start
to slip away.... it because you are a soul like i who greets the day
ready for whatever is possible, or is it just because i love the feel
of your hair between my fingers...................am i afraid of
something?? am i unwilling to settle? am i so connected to my
aloneness that no one can find me? that's an interesting
metaphor...the game of hide and seek with the self. i hide from me
all the time. why don't i like me?

god dammit! give me a fucking meditation tape and let's be done with
the whole fucking thing! ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
i'm captured by an image of you
that i haven't seen before

and the promise of imagination
and hope and desire
creative spark and humanitary
need
will and faith
are enough
come to me lover
and we'll see

awake you are
and dreaming
awake you are
and loving
awake you are

oh my love
i come home to the stories
of the broken and sick
those who i raise
and those who i love
helplessness
and apathy
i draw my skirt over
weary bones i
prop against me
tired minds i weave
in my imagination
is this what you want
wake up and live
wake up and live


the cave
the cave in which we dwell
the cave in which we seek
the cave from which we drag ourselves

when your world shifted
you abandoned as fast as you could
when my world shifted
i held on as hard as i could
both enslaved in our cave

both entrapped
ready to burst forth
ready for the sign
to see beyond the cave
cave of humanity
cave of insecurity
cave of vulnerability
i'm not going to end this with stories of
hope and love and promise
better to leave it here
unsettled
unsure
unanchored
and see what happens next

in those moments we die for a few moments
i do
and memory takes over
then images and empty promises
automatic responses to messages
crafted by the one that reads her letters from the skin of the moon
i wasn't there
the last time i look in the mirror
then memory had nothing to say
not even an empty promise
could be hear carried by the wind
the empty porch is all we have

the moon is my sister
dancing me beyond
the trapped and the suffering
vertical limit of my escape

but what of the moments you are not there
when the other is not there
these too are moments
in my awareness
when depth of thought
and utter aloneness
the winding chaos of panic
the vengeful claw of doubt
and self hate
take over the porch
what does the mind do then
and what of the heart
what of the soul
what of the bliss that longs for light
moonlight is my sister
and i long for her song

forgot i wanted to tell you the story of MY son driving for the first time...

when jake was 2, and i was still married, we were camping up on the beautiful bruce peninsula, where our family and mikes sister have been building a cottage for the last fucking 65 thousand years...i spent every summer up there with my babies, nursing them on the rocks, hiking with them in backpacks, cooking and looking after kids while the other adults did construction work....

so one morning as i made coffee over an outdoor stove, jake, the eternal inquisitor, wanders over to see what i have been up to. in a flash, he pulls the boiling hot coffee pot off the stove and it splashes all over his body. as he screams in pain, i rip his pyjamas off and call for help. his aunt who is a nurse brings cold water to douse him in as his screams get louder and louder. mike and i know this is serious and decide to put him in our car to take him to the hospital rather than call an ambulance to the back woods.

the car ride is the longest most stressful half hour of my life. jake is in my arms, unbuckled, screaming...i am crying, trying to breastfeed but even that won't console him...mike is telling me harshly to stop crying, i want to pound him in the head....

we arrive and jake receives excellent care, is sedated and the 3rd degree burns dressed. we still don't know how serious it is and must travel by ambulance to a larger town with doctors who can assess. mike follows in our car. i am grateful for drugs as i ride in the back and watch my baby boy sleep.

at the hospital jake is seen and we learn jake must have medical care daily for several months..skin grafts are a possiblility but he must be seen in london.

we are exhausted. we go through a drive through to grab lunch because nobody has eaten, and then pull into the drugstore to fill prescriptions. mike goes in while i sit in the back seat with jake, eating our lunch. i am feeling like i've been run over by a truck 18 times....

suddenly, jake loses interest in his hamburger, climbs into the front (driver's seat) and pulls on the steering column. the fucking keys are in the ignition. the car starts moving forward, heading towards a parked car just a few feet in front of ours...i jump into the front, head first, my hand on the brake and my ass and legs in the air, and i stop the car....jake looks at me like i'm a lunatic. now i can't move because if i take my hand off the brake the car will move again. i realize that i am a lunatic.

then, a knock on the window and a passerby says, "um, do you need some help?"..........i'm wondering if my ass crack is showing....

when mike came back, the car was back in the parking spot, jake and i had resumed our lunch in the backseat.

later, jake's wounds healed incredibly...no skin grafts and not even a single scar...and i got a divorce. and that's the story of jake's first driving experience.




if you don't imagine it, it will NEVER happen. at least that's what i tell my kids..

brilliant crescent moon
nestles her baby in her breast
look if you don't believe
she is a harbinger of hope
while we sweep out our
innards
she suckles
and waits
while we wallow
in our shit
while our skin is lacerated
by the steely blade
of uncertainty
while fucking suburbia is
perched around
waiting to descend
she waits
while we kill the children
and rape their mothers
while we send soldiers
to heal the earth
while we plug in to
alternate reality
she is patient
she knows
time stops when we become
givers of life
open to receive
womb of desire
her beauty and her song
are silent reminders
of the exquisite grace
and eternity
inside


the question is always
what lays beyond
grey is nothing but a confusing
sordid mess of yesterday and tomorrow
look for the wildflowers
close your eyes and listen as they
grace the moonlight with their song
beyond the walls
the ones you build
the ones you hate
the ones you spend your life tearing down
know you can choose to
walk out the door

wanderer
with a sufi soul
bound in failing structures
a postmodern calamity
caving in
cardboard boxes
filled with useless shit
busywork
in the thirsty desert
of the mind
lack of spontaneity is my disease
dis ease
dis able the cords
unplug the great experiment
give me my fucking village
a porch and a fire to cook
give me freedom
and grace
and love
and all that will be left
is the dance

a spontaneous trip to the lake
with my babies
wind and wild music and love
jake continues to teach me
about awareness and presence
we explore the beach and he discovers
a magnificent dead fish
floating just off the pier
suddenly all his energy diverts to his plan
to bring the fish to shore
but while looking for tools
he screams with delight
another treasure, a stagnant pond full of
?what?
doesn't matter, the fish is forgotten and we are grabbing globs of something on sticks
he imagines what this pond could be
he searches for creatures and puts his fingers in everything
until the huge flock of seagulls take flight
creating a canopy of white against the sunset
and then suddenly it is raining bird shit
and jake yells 'run for your lives!!!!!!!!'
and he climbs the nearest tree
and then he's swinging like tarzan
except the branch is dead and it breaks
so he lands in a heap, laughing on the hot sand
and he picks up the dead branch which is now his horse
and yells, "amy, guess what we saw!!!"
and as he runs towards his sisters
i wonder if the story he is going to tell
will be the same as my own
and of course i know
it isn't

a poem for the lost and suffering and sleepless

what are emotions
but a defense of the ego
hiding from us
the very truth of our being
veiling the urgency of our impulse
to create
follow that instead
and find yourself dancing in
wildflowers

in stillness
my heart breaks
and empties into nothing
ready for
the next wave
of everything

when nothing and everything
become stillness

naked in the rain

wicked drops

quench each pore

of my sun soaked skin

needles of moonlight

pierce my hungry soul

wild heart

ignited

in birth

oh, yes

Crone’s disease

Not the one of the bowel
Shitty as it is,
The other is worse

The one
Of the old woman’s
Soul
The ones who don’t become
Shamans
The ones who never follow Alice
Down the hole

Fear

Futility and regret
Dis-ease
Lonliness, helplessness
Despair
EXTREME CAUTION
Toooooo few orgasms
Perhaps none at all


Living in the past
Recreating truths
Fabricating love stories
Beautiful tales woven with
Broken dreams

Missed steps
Missed opportunities
Mis-guided
Mis-informed
Misssssssssssssssssssssing life

My heart breaks for
These old women

My elders
My olders

touch my heart and dance my soul
kiss my lips
and
release

surrender your love and
i will fall

this is it baby
the revolution is on

action and
reaction
is all that matters

in this tug
for love

going to bed soon
in the spring rain
we have become
the city of rain
and so have you
so let's dance

i am pushed forward
by the surge
like alice
not lost in the waves
like cinderella

connected to the impulse
of creativity
desire
imagination

passion
willing it to ride me
into eternity
again
and again

urgency to devour
my soul

desperation to drink
my tears

hope to lick my
wounds clean

tears to wash
the blood

dreams to capture
the urgency of my soul

it's not the moment of eternity.....

it's the moments in between
that cast light
into the window
of our being

we never really danced

did we
perhaps on the list
of regrets
perhaps on the list
of things to do
or maybe neither


perhaps

which constance does my heart
adore
the pounding breathless
indeterminant scream
or the maddening depth of
languid despair

walk these
winding steps
with me

show me all
your heart

desires

dance with me
and light the fires

lick the
smouldering
embers
as you fan
once more

kiss the darkness
on your knees

leap for nothing

hope for
eternity

i am pushed forward
by the surge
like alice
not lost in the waves
like cinderella

connected to the impulse
of creativity
desire
imagination

passion
willing it to ride me
into eternity
again
and again

urgency to devour
my soul

desperation to drink
my tears

hope to lick my
wounds clean

tears to wash
the blood

dreams to capture
the urgency of my soul

my son tells me he sees visions...
he thinks or dreams things and then they happen
he is aware of the magnitude of his being
i say to my daughter, look at that cloud
she says, it just changed...
did we change it,
or did it change us?
beautiful question
ask me another one

when the night closes in
flesh surrendering
to dreamscape
of darkness unknown
when letting go happens
without resistance
when ego loses its
clammy grip
when the love train
pulls into the station
and the goblins
push to the front of the line
and each meets the other
with no plan
i meet myself there
and laugh
and cry

eyes closing
revelations
keep cracking it open
keep pushing
me
off
the
edge

if there was certainty
there would never be truth
if there was certainty
the great thunder of the universe
would not have the power
to crack us open
if there was certainty
we could not love
from that place of reckless abandon
if there was certainty
i would not be your friend
and we would not be dancing in the rain

blessed unrest
gathering pieces of soul
stolen, ripped away
by ordeals of the heart

we dance through darkness
sweep the corners clean
in every step
lighting the path
home

i feel the distance
between the silences
i am lost on the sea of wakefulness
that plays like so many records we spun

my lips keep kissing themselves
as if they could bring you back
god, they try

my body aches with the thought
that she might pleasure you
more than i

banish this sad state
i want to scream
i do scream
and yet it seeps
and breathes into every pore

i walk the path and stop
for every waking bloom
eager
so eager
to find the one who
calls me home

the aftermath

invoking the divine feminine
wild form and shape
calling in the ancestors
stirring the cauldron
plucking the eyeballs
of every goatfucker
for the stew
only the goddess
can save us now

the beloveds
forever wrapped in the mystery
of time and space
bathed in nectar
sipped slowly in everflowing
joy

gratitude

and



love

Breaking up with Stephen Harper, London Ontario style

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqQChWYA178

entering the shadowland
deep inside my heart
cracked open and raw
called to the corners
soil bleeds onto my hands
as i claw
through wild gardens
untended
uncontrolled
drenched in rains
leaking from my eyes
above

and i am swimming now
choking in my salty pool
but floating
buoyed in serenity
my head refusing the weight of
gravity
viciously pulling at my root

i discover my blindness
as the light pours in
streaming in
to the
dusty corners
of my soul
corners i dared not see
seducing me now in sacred dance
light of abundance

communion with the goddess
and i breathe
breathe
breathe
breathe
breathe
and i breathe
once more

For Vittorio

our eyes never met
but our souls surely did

dancing in timelessness
the sacred space of love

i kiss your sweet lips
and take your
final breath

that so reluctantly
leaves your body

i breathe it back
to life
in compassion
in truth
in love

there is no fear in love
there is no thing in love
like a daisy pushing up
through winding cracks
like the softest feather
on a baby bird
i am the cavern of love
dark and musty
wet and warm
colliding into nothingness
in between everything else
we think is real

what is this
sticky goo
each time i blink
it retracts and contracts
and i cannot see
if i could bury myself in the earth
i would
this circle

ohhhhh canada
oh canada
our home and native land
true native love
in all thy hearts expand
with glowing hearts
we see thee rise
thy true north stong and free
from far and wide
oh canada
we stand in love with thee
goddess keep our land
glorious and free
oh canada i will not kill for thee
oh canada don't make me hate for thee

you asked me for socks
and that's the moment
i knew
we'd blown it
how can we come together
in deep loving union
with no
socks

sometimes
when the rain comes
it feels like
a tsunami crashing in
waves churning
at the heart of
my soul
other times
i laugh
take my clothes off
and dance

Feather and Stone

Born to fly,
majestic condor
thunderbird of heavens
soars high above humanity
solitude in the grace
of a swollen moon

called to suffering
licking wounds
and
reflecting his own heart's yearning
his own weary tears

ancient memories are battle cries
released in mighty shifts
of bountiful gaia
collapsing structures nourish
soil
for glorious gardens of rebirth

belonging to wind, yet longing to land

Elephant casts her gaze high
drawing down the elders' tales
weaving them back
into community

willing wings
to birth on her heavy shoulders
drinking deeply from source
as she places each foot
steadily on her path

ever patient, ever watchful
for the sacred moments
when earth meets sky

can't sleep
don't want to call and wake you
feeling uprooted
had a drink with a very old friend
on his way to afghanistan
an army captain
he thinks he will build schools and community
he thinks he will work with village elders
he thinks he can be different
my daughter plans her birthday party
has to be better than suzannah's
cars drive by
rivers flow
and i quietly go insane

on being

the mirror reflection
becomes my lover
my enemy

i imagine myself
a singer
wildly loving
the sexy guitarist
carving lyrics on his chiseled shoulders
brandy dripping down my breasts

but my songstress
belongs in the bathroom
lyrics across soapy walls

bubbles foam
as i ready
the vessel of my being
for stories
of tomorrow

i could write a river

our gift is
that we come
empty
open
peaceful

no song
no instrument
no walls
no turning back

the world in revolution
filling liberation squares
babies born into turmoil
children bask in words of elders
and spit them out again
in rap and rhyme
for the camera
chants of freedom
echo across generations
send the tyrants packing

another chink in the armor
of the system

and yet what of freedom
of the mind?
what of freedom
of the soul
bring me to eternity
and i will be free

for the woman who sings
only heaviness in my heart
for you
and those like you
gathering now

rendering into life
the tender hope
of love

revolution in the air
dictators scramble for their millions
fighting for their lives
against the power of love
love of freedom
love of justice
love of truth
love of self
tunisia, egypt, libya, yemen
children, youth, women and men
siding with humanity
over power and greed
and what of my sisters and brothers
at home?
and what of the masses
jiggly asses
still glued to the lazyboy
glassy eyes flip between
desperate housewives
and desperate 'leaders'
pouring passivity on cornflakes
accepting wild distortions
for truth
murder as defence
corruption as
inevitable
and self as
incapable
of anything but
abject apathy

for ron


darkened garden of moons
wilderness of winding vines
choke out the light today


a wild storm
awaits the rest
shadow and doubt
swirl
in relentless wind


raging thunder
and pounding
rains
against the panes
of our memories


reality molded
re-told
again
and
again
re-membered
re-written


alas,
your troubled heart
finally
in
stillness

wish you dreams of
eternity
nestled between
moments of
insanity
steeped in
passion
danced by
love

i am in a gorgeous storm
holding on
to whatever
passes by

the pull on my cheeks
excites
and
terrifies
me
i want to witness
complete upheaval
of the universe
i accept nothing less
then
i will rest

you ask what we are doing
what is wrong with this picture
and i hear you with sober ears
i fumble for answers
amidst this revolution of
neopostmodern, prefeminist, neandrathal activism
the cauldron boils
which, (let's agree)
is what we want
a boiling cauldron is
the perfect place to begin
any revolution

and what if we cast ourselves
as wizards
of this great stew
what if we unfold
that which
has never been
seen

embrace this new dance
and whirl
with reckless
abandon

the root of life
surely suckles love
i stand
barefoot
and let the surge
overcome
what is left
of me
infinity wraps itself
against my body
i am pulled
up and down
in and out
remembering where i came from

brilliant crescent moon
nestles her baby in her breast
look if you don't believe
she is a harbinger of hope
while we sweep out our
innards
she suckles
and waits
while we wallow
in our shit
while our skin is lacerated
by the steely blade
of uncertainty
while suburbia
perches
on the edge of madness

she watches

while we kill the children
and rape their mothers
while we send soldiers
to set fires
while we plug in to
alternate reality

she is patient
she knows
time stops when we become
givers of life
open to receive
womb of desire
her beauty and her song
are silent reminders
of the exquisite grace
and eternity
inside

the question is always
what lays beyond

my life is a garden of wildflowers
to tend and admire and love
you are indian paintbrush
stroking the sky with waves of colour
as you reach and stretch and dream
born from the ashes of the earth
to be wild and beautiful and free

so quick the return to old patterns
i reach for you
to sink into the warmth
of your pores
your breath
guiding me gently
back to dreamland
back home
stirrings in my bones
as the serpent longs
to unleash
for now content with
sweet memories
of loving joy
i will gather you into my mind
third eye looking out across
heavy spring clouds
and follow the sound of
my soul

surge through life
find your spirit souls
dance wildly
and never doubt

through each gentle snowflake
between icy layers
and stale memories
inside the wrath of each storm
that pierces the night sky
beyond the mountain of sorrow
heavy burden of earth
the lush valley grows
anyway

sitting in the beautiful sunlight of madrid, steeped in deep conversation about this dynamic, evolving world, images of the struggle pass through my wandering mind. I have seen children and youth chanting, leading, cheering, crying, hugging, suffering. I sat at the dinner table with Tunisians and Egyptians whose eyes light up when they tell me how proud they are of their people. When my Tunisian friend touched down in his country he said he felt like his head was being pulled out of a bucket of water. Like he could breathe again. My Egyptian friend joined the rally for Egypt in Madrid, proudly and loudly and said for the first time he was proud of his country.

People are rising. Women are claiming their power, youth are daring to dream and children are laughing. People are also dying and suffering and fighting for their rights. As I glue myself to my computer screen I challenge myself to use my own power and resources to support change. Real, sustained change. I know, and there is no turning back, that love, and freedom of all to love and live without oppression is what we must fight for. Today I attend meetings to send a Canadian boat with the International Freedom Flotilla Two, with the goal of BREAKING THE ILLEGAL AND INHUMAN SEIGE OF GAZA. Tomorrow, I will ask you to join me.

when you don't know
when your thoughts are filled
with the lostness of the universe
the only answer
is to ask a child

to sit and watch silently
the playful glamour of their
bountiful expression
is enough to thwart all
feelings of rebellion

i need your help
these meetings might kill me
i don't see the world the same way
i don't see borders and nations
walls and regimes
their solutions to political problems
will only bring the same
i see new power
emerging
emanating and pulsing
yet so diffuse
it's hard to connect
but i feel it, it's there
i know i'm here to push them forward
but they yank me back
at every turn
again and again
i won't let them have me
i won't let them off the hook

if there is beauty
let it crush the
miserable lonliness
of shadow

for egypt,
to the rest of us
let not one drop of her blood spilled be for nothing
let not one cry fail
to reach the ear of the world
let not one beating
or one hundred
go unnoticed
let not one woman's wail
be ignored
let not one egyptian child
cry in fear
tonight

do something different, she said
and wondered what she meant
what kiss,
what touch,
what desire
will fuel
the next motivation
the hopefulless trance

do something different

what if love flowered
in me
love myself
pure motive seeping
outward
what of loving and not longing
what of joy in every moment
not secretly wishing i could hold someone's hand
what of bliss in knowing
deeply
that to give
is to receive

fire in the street
silenced no more
gaia bloodied
again, again, again
breathe into humanity
deliver our love
as they hold tight
to their babies
tonight

as the beauty of this life
bleeds into oceans of pain
i dance and dance and dance
on the edge
and i am overcome

it didn't hurt much
to say goodbye to the others
worn their welcome
played their part
left a pleasant void
and distant memories

yet you churn in my belly
like the ocean on fire
you race through my veins
and smother me with
your
last
word
and i still hold it all
in deep calm
and wait

in stillness
my heart breaks
and empties into nothing
ready for
the next wave
of everything

when nothing and everything
become stillness

before darkness gathers me in
before liminal space invades me
before i tumble inward
and rest my weary eyes
as i shed the day
and imagine possibilities
of tomorrow
and beyond
before i let it all go
a word rests on my lips
asking to be spoken

love

wanderer
with a sufi soul
bound in failing structures
a postmodern calamity
caving in
cardboard boxes
filled with useless shit
busywork
in the thirsty desert
of the mind
lack of spontaneity is my disease
dis ease
dis able the cords
unplug the great experiment
give me my fucking village
a porch and a fire to cook
give me freedom
and grace
and love
and all that will be left
is the dance

but what of the moments you are not there
when the other is not there
these too are moments
in my awareness
when depth of thought
and utter aloneness
the winding chaos of panic
the vengeful claw of doubt
and self hate
take over the porch
what does the mind do then
and what of the heart
what of the soul
what of the bliss that longs for light
moonlight is my sister
and i long for her song

this poem is called, "in memory of the nine brave, corageous peace activists whose lives were stolen by murderous war criminals who spin lies, black out independent media, violate international law repeatedly!" repeatedly! yes, this is for them...in memory of the nine brave, courageous peace activists who were murdered by Israeli soldiers, in the name of TRUTH"

as long as the israeli lunatics
float down to deck
guns blazing like a bad scene in a low budget spaghetti western
or a disney kids' movie

as long as conventions and international laws
mean no more than the toilet paper i use every morning

for as long as democracy rhymes with hypocracy

and for as long as i wonder as i tuck my own children in,
'how many babies are crying for their mama's arms tonight?'

and how many momas are crying for their babies?

for as long as it takes for the tears to stop
for as long as it takes

with my palestinian sisters and brothers
i will dance
i will write
i will laugh
and i will love

with my palestinian brothers and sisters
i will stand
i will walk
i will march
i will speak truth
and i will sail

i will do this every day
until the collective consciousness of humanity
until this truth
is heard

if not me, then who?
if not us, then who?

-wendy goldsmith
june 2010

2011

vomit the leftovers
and shit out the violent
purge

no other way to begin



every pick
of every orfice
is under
intense
observation