Red Bird

Red Bird

In a small wooded backyard
a red bird sits upon a tree’s branch
singing a song,
the same one she sings each day
yet, she sings as if she
has just discovered her voice…

More than a thousand miles away,
in a secret garden, a red bird
sits on a branch
amongst the flowers…
She sings a song, the same
one she sings each day she visits,
and the blossoms unfold
upon hearing her sweet refrain

No matter the distance, the miles
that separate the beliefs
we hold or the ways we believe,
are the only truths…

No matter the color, black or yellow,
red or white

No matter the gender, the religion or
political stance

No matter poor or oppressed,
rich or lacking for nothing

The red bird sings,
and sings if for nothing else,
because it can

…there are those who stop
to ‘listen’
they hear the song each day and
recognize the music as if just written
for the first time and sung with a
love~~~passionate, pure and whole

The song plays on in that mysterious
dwelling ‘within’ and no matter
how misunderstood

The red bird’s song invites each of us
to find our branch
and ‘sing’ for the ‘one’ who sits
waiting, listening for our song!

I Think I’ve Lost You…

I Think I’ve Lost You…

All these years
I can barely count the seasons past
I’ve been worn by the weathers
and yet it is grace that has
gently kissed my aging skin

I have known you
discovered You in countless ways
Your name endless and yet is
in my every breath whispered again
and again and again

Yet, somehow in this silence “You” seemed
to have vanished~~~
vanished entirely into my soul
I no longer have a name for you
all my knowing matters not at all
it is in the absence of knowing

I ‘realize’ it makes sense—
In losing YOU I’ve let go of
everything make believe
and yes, discovered you within me.


A Heart of ‘Seeing’

Walking upon a soft bed
of cushioned earth
‘the stump’ nearly ‘tripped’ me

Yet, I suppose all
heart moments
cause us to stumble…

I did ‘not’ always ‘see’ them
yet now it seems they
‘find’ me…these heart moments

Realizing how
deeply I need the beat
of its fusion within this
simple body—temple
of a BELOVED”S dwelling

Alas, from my knees I rise
reminding me~~~Get up…quickly
no more confessions

Only the soft ‘feather’ of love
let go, released by a song bird
singing a love song to the One
who sees the heart open, yearning, moving
within the ebb and flow
No longer tussling in the eddy
which captures…holding back spirit

Heart of ‘seeing’
you have known pain, loss
disappointment, sadness—
you have known often without knowing
the depth of love in all the unforeseen

When the Heart is ‘broken,’
love splashes outward
making ‘lighter’ the
inner dwelling
allowing, inviting more
space for love to grow

Prepare the Sail

Prepare the Sail

Prepare the Sail
the sun is rising
its blaze coloring the sky
like an airbrush gone wild
with endless hues of transformation

Prepare the Sail
for truly the earth is the one
dipping downward inviting the birth of dawn
The sun does not move—it radiates
and earth bows, genuflecting
inward and then ascends as dawn
is sprung from an eternal womb

Prepare the Sail
yet, don’t get ‘captured’ in all
the busy-ness…if you must find a
moment, several in fact,
to hear your ‘breath’
listen as your chest rises
and falls…”feel’~~~turn off the mind’s activity
of all thoughts that it tells itself
it must get done

Prepare the Sail
the moon’s cycle
imbued with shadows created by
‘her’ dancing mystery
She circles…spinning
changing the tides~~~the waves crest and break to her silent song

Yes…Prepare the Sail
The voyage~~~uncharted…climb aboard, yes, get on
travel to where you really
are meant to go
get off where you thought
was your destination
it is then that you have arrived
only to set sail
again and again

A Door Closed This Day…And

A Door Closed This Day…And

A door closed this day and
he could barely look me in the face
his eyes could not meet my gaze

The women, they were the first
to open the door
Birth~bearers, streaks of silver lining
in their hair…
They listened…their tears
taught me~~~the spirit flowing

I shared the story
the one from ages past
The book was meant to be in every home
yet never to be opened or read
…because only certain persons
could teach it and share its message

The voices within the book called to
me…create us, so that
others might ‘see
‘we are all ONE and the same’…
Don’t be afraid of the stories

I was called to the young people
preparing to receive the ‘spirit’
Their eyes…PAIN~~~
they knew so little of the story
and understood the message
but were frightened to look at
their story

The man came to me
only after I approached him
offering to share the message

He said…
‘You need a THEME
perhaps change your topic
because the Bible is large’

I looked at his lost expression
change…the story~~~
I can only trust the “spirit’s” yearning

“Perhaps another time”—he said

I told him I understood
I could not change THE WORD
to fit into ‘a box’ of his making
and he turned, closing the door

I stepped outside…
the soft wind kissed my cheeks
the sun blinded my eyes
but there was a shadow
“picking” flowers

The spirit ‘lifted’ my saddened soul

‘Take the petals to those’ who will receive’

Doors close only to open
your being to a deeper fullness and joy

Skeletons in the Night

Skeletons in the Night

Erectly they stand
all holding their own unique postures
weathered by creation’s seasons
through time

Curved, broken, upright
Some placed so distinctly apart from
each other while
there are ‘others’ whose branches
intertwine as if
a union of souls

They share the same ground
which before our eyes appears flat
yet, from a distance you can
see the curvature of the MOTHER
who holds ‘her’ tiny seeds

giving them life
watching them grow to fullness
and yes, even watching them
ripped from ‘her’ being
as if they hold no purpose

‘Her’ tears fall from
the heavens
while her children
stand as silhouettes in the night sky

In the hush of winter
barren of their clothing of lovey greens draped in
spring and summer
bedecked in oranges, yellows, and reds in autumn
their skeletons so visible
adorned by a fresh blanket of snow in this

Oh, lovely skeletons
so naked and looking so
in this time of creaking shadows
‘You’ are more full NOW
than when you wear
your coat of dangled leaves…

Yes…some of us ‘see’ you
and ‘see’ HER who created you

You, skeletons of the night
call us to stillness and wonder

A Bridge

A Bridge

I stood upon a bridge
staring ‘outward’

Before my eyes I witnessed
the trees swaying above my head
I saw the water swiftly moving
beneath my feet

As I gazed to my left
and then to my right
I saw the beginnings of the bridge’s path

What was the beginning?
Or the ending?
Or where the path began?

I sat now upon the bridge
drawing ‘inward’

Suddenly, I realized the “ONE”
created both distinct ends
and calls us
to the middle
the center

To the depths of where both points
meet and there is no longer division—
instead, perfect union

What if

What if…

What if all the
streaming bodies of water
came from the tears
of those whose lives

fashioned the earth

What if they cried until the
depth reached fathoms
too deep to measure

What if their flow created
the majestic waterfalls
that, to this very day,
spill over
with a power and strength
that truly comprehends grace

What if we ‘plunged’
into these ‘baths’
of hot springs
mindful of their beginnings
cherishing their mystery
honoring the holy drops

and then, perhaps shed a few
of our own and recognize
our ‘Oneness’ in and through the other.




Then the silent pounding of heart strings
Cares, worries, anxieties
Then a hushed breath in, out, in
A symphony of noises playing in the mind
THE SILENCE~~~sweet, tricky & luring

COME BACK…I know you’re there
The echo of events
Then back to quiet refrain

Is this the ebb & flow of my deepest prayer?

Can this be the calm, the chaos
my inner stirrings to ‘see’
in all things your
‘simple,’ ‘uncomplicated,’ intoxicating wonder?

First, the push, and then
The pull…back in, back in~~~it’s safe here

BUT the ‘tent’ no longer holds
The sapling within
Bursting~~~stretching with every ounce of unforeseen ‘newness’
Life happens

It happens while we are in it~~~

See…see with eyes “closed”
The ‘Divine’ breathing in you
Your blossoms ready to
and the beauty you
Already bring
Only now truly

Darkness and Light

Darkness and Light

The crown of darkness enveloped the sky’s canopy…
its face hidden with delight
as if never to be discovered

Ahhhhh…creeping in
like a match to a wick
a light tore the
velvet blanket of black hues

For a moment the two
jostled poking an elbow
here and there
attempting to make room…

Then suddenly they both
grasped the magic almost

Their colors blended
casting shadows too brilliant
to erase

Their ‘joining’
rid distinct lines of
separation, boundaries, divisions~~~

While they understood
their own uniqueness
they embraced their oneness

The light shines because
of the darkness
and the darkness gives way
for the light’s truest manifestations

Shadows subtract
the lines drawn
in the sand

No One Sees

No One Sees

No One Sees
and it scarcely matters

During the night
she muses
from deep within her
the loom
‘inside’ yields
the thread
anticipating her masterpiece

Hung between
a frame of branches
she spews ever so
a wave of silk
dangling row by row
transfixed by playful
extensions of herself

She moves
without thinking the
pattern, trusting the

She herself does not even
step back to gaze of its

Her tangled web
most especially when
caught in its
weightless clutch

Daylight reveals her
hidden revelation
the sun highlights
the inner shadows
while dewdrops
sit hung upon each
fragile yet resilient

No One Sees
yet it scarcely matters
a gallery alive…free
and so few
dare visit its



In the sanctuary of
my soul
the opening service does
not begin with
the cascading sounds
of bells chiming in unison

No, instead it is
the song of the cicadas
and the symphony of forest
insects all echoing at once
a dance of rhythmic

The sweet incense is not
the smoke from a candle’s
wick ascending through
every living, breathing cell

No, instead it is the
tender pine draped in
drops of falling rain
filling the air with
aromas never to be duplicated

The first reading
followed by the second
a responsorial psalm
flows yet without words

Each sentence a blade
of grass lifting its head
to the reader who ‘sees’

Each chapter a leaf
especially the one falling to
the ground, dying and yet
rising to a newness beyond

The Gospel…
mountain peaks,
treacherous terrain
an invitation to
an inward descent
in mystery
re-framing all
that once seemed
to make sense

the lotus flower
floating on a clear
its soft pink petals
it roots filled
with the sweet
essence of

I taste
the goodness
of creation
in this
living sanctuary

No doors
the entry way
an invitation
for all

The table…
the supper
in this sanctuary
always open to