Not in My Name

Not in my name—
I laced my shoes
taking them off
sorrowfully laying them upon the stone altar.

No more would I step into
this barren womb
glittered in gold
marbled statues—
wooden crosses.

Follow me
that is what He said…
He did not say fall down
and worship me.

He paved a Way of Being
and at His side countless
women without NAMES.

They did not need their names to
be remembered.
Up from the skeleton graves
they rose…
the dirt streets—
their Cathedrals.

They knew the
and pressed on.

Their egos far behind…
Their silence—pure action.
Their very movements
open displays.

They did not seek
glory, fame, recognition.
Yet, their beings radiated

This, the reason—
the ‘higher,’ the ‘rational,’ put
them asunder
to keep them in their place.

Their place is limitless.
A secret—
yet rising.


They are crumbling
as we walk amidst
the rubble…
yes—women walking
over the same paths
as yesteryear’s.

A circular motion
of balance and harmony is
beginning to be restored.

but in EACH and EVERYONE

The stones cry out
rubbing together as they fall
up from the rotting floor boards.
A spark
now a flame
burning with a passion
fueled beyond words…

Rising, Rising, Rising
the sweet incense of mercy—
empty sacrifices

An inferno
hand hewn.
A unanimous
clap of thunder bellows…
it is time

Dusk came
and it began as if from the beginning
illuminating all things
from within the DARKNESS.

In gratitude to June Gould whose wisdom and teaching of poetry inspired my work.



Who am I?
I sat in the darkness
of a room
whose only light gently flickered from a candle’s wick.

The flame danced
left then right
as it swirled again and again
casting a performance on
the walls…
a ballad
designed for only this moment.

A tear formed in my eye
and ran down my cheek
at the exact moment the
wax of the candle
spilled from its edge.

In that moment
we were ONE
dissolving into nothingness
yet, finding ourselves in the
absence like two lovers
intertwined as if for a first time.

I touched the flame
yet, I was not burned.

An ember kindled a blaze within me
unlike any other I had ever
known and in this moment
cannot begin to grasp.

I’m dissolving—like wax.
Will I find me NOW?

Alabaster Jar

Alabaster Jar

An alabaster jar
sits empty upon
an unknown shelf—somewhere.

Three tiny flowers are
dipped in its
hollowed walls
while the sweet
scent of perfume
lingers upon the
jar’s smooth lips.

Yes, lips that once
poured out their
fragrance upon a
body being made
ready for its burial.

A Beloved follower—
‘She’ knew~~~BELIEVED
the words spoken.
Her heart broke open
as the ‘expensive’ perfumes
mused with her tears and
fell ever so gently
upon His feet.

Her hair
desperately attempted to
dry the ‘balm’
comforting His being.

A moment of
—sweet fragrance
—lifeless wonder
—eyes opened.

The Alabaster Jar…
I believe I smell its
lingering aroma—still.

Mary’s Lamb Named Ewe

Mary’s Lamb Named Ewe

Mary had a little lamb
She chose to name her Ewe.

No one knows the story of where Ewe
came from—not even Mary.

Every where Mary went, Ewe seemed to follow…
Ewe listened to whatever Mary said
and did whatever she asked.

There was something very different about Ewe.
Ewe was not afraid to be out in the pasture alone.
She enjoyed grazing.

Other sheep would join Ewe…it was then that
there always seemed to be a celebration.

Mary encouraged Ewe especially as she grew
to go out into the world and share all
the kindness, love, tenderness & mercy that
Mary had shared with Ewe.

Ewe went her ‘way’—others left their familiar
pastures and went a new way with Ewe.

More and more grazed with Ewe, but
there were some who were suspicious of Ewe.
They did not like the fact Ewe was showing
others where they could eat freely
and live abundantly.

These others were used to being in charge
of the other sheep and felt like they were
losing their stronghold.

Ewe invited these others to ‘see’ a new way
where all were welcomed—all could enjoy
a banquet of plenty if all were to be accepted
as participants in the wonderful mystery of life.

The sheep heard Ewe and went out to set a snare
to trap her—She, Ewe that is, was too wild,
thought the others, and will lead lambs astray…
We must get rid of her.

Ewe knew her end was near…Mary’s heart was broken.
Mary taught Ewe ‘goodness’ and tears spilled down
upon Ewe’s wool as Mary wept
holding her lifeless lamb.

Mary carried Ewe to a quiet place laying Ewe in a
soft bed of glorious flowers—Ewe loved flowers.

Ewe’s closest friends gathered beside Mary and they
stayed in the pasture of flowers until the
setting of the sun.

Days later…
Mary came to the place Ewe was laid BUT
Ewe was gone.

Mary stared in disBelief—
who, what could have taken Ewe’s little tent of a being?

Just then Mary heard a distinct cry.
Atop a rocky crag—why, it looked just like Ewe.

Mary thought to herself, “I must be ‘seeing’ things.”
It began to leap closer and closer to Mary—it was Ewe.

Ewe has risen.
Just how, NO ONE really knows.

Infinite Wonder

Infinite Wonder

My heart steeped in dew
barely rises in between
each breath.

So heavy, my heart, in sorrow.
Still, it knows the
joy of bliss.

A red bird sings.
Its voice soars
echoing through
the mighty branches
swaying in the breeze.

My heart lifts to reach
for the song
it knows it can sing for
itself. YET, not now.

For now the heart listens
allowing the music of
the bird’s song to fill
a breaking heart.

they do not stop—
for so many reasons,
they fall.

yes, love is why it hurts
so very badly.

We live in a world that
has everything—(in some places)
yet, we ‘cannot’ hear
the sounds of our elderly.
We do not hear the cry of the poor.
We cast out those different
and exclude them from
what we ‘think’ belongs
only to us.

This—this Creation
is a gift to ALL…
NOT only humans.

We think we are the
privileged ones.

My heart aches
for more than it can
possibly hold.

I don’t know how to carry
it.  I lay it down
while two playful robins
flutter so near my feet.

They seem to want to
carry this woe of mine
casting it into the air
returning it to the vastness
of Life~~~ Infinite Wonder.

My thoughts so finite
stretch to embrace a
new dawn…

My heart…I hear
it beating as the tears
roll down.

Rain Drops

Rain Drops

My words intermingled
in rain drops.
As soon as the ink touches
the paper, a splash
falls down upon it
erasing whatever surfaced.

How to begin?
One tear falls and then

How can there be celebration
in the streets when
one by one by one
life is taken…
limbs of life lost…
quality of life changed?

A tree branch crashes
to the ground in the heart of
the forest…she bleeds—
no one hears.

Listen…no one has won.
This was not a game.
Life is not a sport.
Creation weeps this
day mindful of what each of us
is losing.

In the name of God
some cast people to Hell.
I think in some ways
‘we’ have become our
own ‘gods’ determining
where one goes in the

Where did you learn your
theology?  Your words
are violence.  They could
never come from a
‘Source’ that loves
what has been
fashioned as GOOD.

Before anything, darkness
existed…it welcomed the
light.  Together they
knitted the great
web of life—the
chain of Being.

The nameless ‘One’
waits, breathing
silently and in the
stillness and noise
HOPES again and again to



Upon the shore
balancing on the rocks
like a trapeze artist,
‘she’ was all around me.

Each wave
rolling over and over
spraying me—filling me with glee.

I was soaked in wonder.
We played
hide and seek.

When I caught her,
I held her knowing
I had to let go
for she could not be contained.

When ‘she’ caught me,
she embraced my soul.
She pointed me in the direction
of the sun’s light.
I was blind,
but for a moment.

I saw.
I could see what
for so long had always
been, but I could not
grasp it…

Now I held it
letting it go again and again.

She breathed her
wind through
my hair.
My being shivered
and yet I was
so warm inside.

My heart laughed
and the seagulls
chimed in—
a symphony written without notes.

Others passed by
stopping for a moment to
look…they, too, saw her.

Then Sophia rolled
in her clouds
clapping her hands
in a thunderous

I did not want to
leave, but I knew
as I waved goodbye that
she was far from gone.

A Girl

A Girl

Her small voice
hushed the noise of
the T.V. blaring news
of a new Pope.

She looked up at her
mom and, with
utter delight, she
“Can a Girl be a Pope?”
Her eyes full of wonder…
her heart awaited a
response to a question
that for years had
been answered with
complete falsity.

The mom…in a soft
spoken voice—
tears slipping down
her cheek even before
the realization of the
words that she would
allow to spill from her
pursed lips said…
“Only boys can be priests.”

The child sat…
thinking only for a
moment before another
inquiry ensued.
“Does that mean girls
cannot help God?”

Do we ‘hear’ the messages
we ‘leave’ for our children?

We set the stage—
their little minds
so expansive.

We have the power to
transform/restrict their
creativity, their compassion,
their desire to do

Her question…
What will our answer be?
Perhaps it is time for us
to break the chain of
fear…speaking truths
only to let the light
that has always been
shine in NEW WAYS.



have set my ‘feet’
knotting them—
telling me a
where I
can and
cannot go.

You have
held my
‘sealing’ it,
allowing me to set
the table, prepare the
food, but you hold me
back from sharing
the words.

You decide what is
best for my body even
after it has been broken…
abused and yes, beaten.
‘One’ who is BEYOND you
speaks through the
whose breath has
blown its way into
my soul, into every
fiber, cell, pulsing
in the transformation
of my being.

I am stretched
though you try to hold me.
I reach connecting to all creation
which fills me with life.
I sing for my voice can no longer
be restrained.  My refrain—endless.

My body
like a tree
is planted in ‘sweet’
Still, the soil
holds me—
the birds nest in my arms reaching,
soaring in every
which way.

The sun warms me
while the rain bathes
my essence.

The snow freezes my
shell, my bark—yet,
my core, unseen

When leaves grow,
they join my

You can try to ‘hold’
yet, you’ll
never stop

I am a
participant in

The Tempest

The Tempest

For a time
the swirling winds
of the rushing tempest
seemed to have ceased.

I walked amongst the trees…
we chatted.
A simple song they sang…
the gentle breeze echoed through
their branches.

My heart space
A calm serenity was found
in the still silence.

Then, without notice
pellets of hail, sleet
fell from the sky.
Any subtle form of air
was now a fury
lifting me from any solid

I twirled in the air—‘freezing.’
I was caught in the rapturous

My mind raced—
I could not turn off
the noise penetrating
through my head.
My being ‘rocked.’

It was no use trying
to fight all the elements
toward my center.

I’ve known this place—
and this time I am
more aware of myself
within these encounters
of chaos.

In every way I am stretched—
refashioned and yes, maybe

The tempest far from over—
The flying debris leaves me


I see.

I vision—a way
through this ‘place’…
still, silent, alone
yet, never by

Hidden within
the tempest I am pushed.  Yet,
I do not resist.
I know I simply
must let-go.

Be Still

Be Still

sit gently upon
the budding flowers.

Suckle sweetly
the tender juices…in the heart
of the garden’s

Be Still~~~
taste and
all you ever needed
or wanted
is all
around you.

It is not simply
around you
it is
within you.

Sit quietly
and be still.



I see my breath
in the framework of the night—
it shatters like a thousand
tiny pieces of icicles in mid-air.

The cold
creates pools which form
in the very corners of my eyes…
they slip down
freezing before they spill from
my chin.

The blustering wind
pierces my cheeks
like a sewing needle
weaving its way through
a seamless garment.

Why am I out here?
To listen~~~but to what?
What is there to listen to?
A tree cracks…
a lonely leaf scurries across
the icy terrain.

I’m frozen—
my nostrils await
another breath
before ‘sealing’ closed barely re-opening.

I listen…
and hear nothing.

The silence—it’s intoxicating.
I drink it in
one shot after another
and suddenly ‘inside’
my being I’m warm.
I’m listening to the chill of
and in this moment
it is as a
burning flame.