What Gift do you Bring?

What Gift do you Bring?

A piece of Paper
empty, life-less…
without color.

A box of Pencils
endless colors…
sitting, as if in waiting.
For so long their ‘points’
longed for union~~~connection.

A Story
in a mind
always creating…
still~~~holding back
What gift can I bring?

Then ‘She’ knelt upon
the frozen earth
under the silent moon
lighting the empty paper.

She picked up the colored pencils
or maybe they picked her?
None the less,
She ‘mused’ them ‘into’ the
naked page…

Splashing with delight
She discovered ‘her-story.’
It was her gift to bring
and NOW how could she
not share it with the world?

A Love Story
filled with the tapestry of colors
and the page, or pages of paper
are anything but empty.

The Empty Pitcher

The Empty Pitcher

Pour out the contents—
every last ounce of ‘whatever’
remains; let it spill out
and dissolve so that it might
not be found ever again.

Hollow, the Pitcher
at last…
This is how it first arrived
in the world after being
held, kneaded and placed
in a fire—
it came out of the kiln
absolute perfection.

so many of ‘our’ pitchers—
yours, mine…a collective ‘ours’
have been filled, tarnished,
scraped, cracked from the
inside…and for too long
what we’ve come to believe in
are the falsities of who we actually
are.  It is this we are not
this is not what defines us
and yet, it has.

Wounds inflicted—
‘we’ have allowed to fill us.
Some we actually believe true.
Imagine NOT believing in your own perfection.

Empty your pitcher.
‘Look’ inside…
maybe its shine is a bit lackluster after
so many years—
perhaps a mar has
formed and
your pitcher broken
in places.

Can you finally ‘see’ you
in this emptiness?
Behold the splendid
Pitcher you are and
always have been.

It is in this very
emptying you are
finally FULL.

Now—splash yourself
everywhere that will
receive the love that
is YOU.

The Trees Are Crying

The Trees Are Crying

They know what is coming.
A storm is approaching—
They, yes, each tree
big & small, tall & short, barren & filled
with autumn’s last leaves~~~
Each begins to sway.

The wind holds nothing back…
branches click and clack
and then a ‘break’
and then a silent rumble
as the tree crashes to earth’s floor…

If you listen—
really listen—
you’ll hear the trees cry.

They creek aloud understanding
a Fall.
Anything BUT a fall from Grace…
rather a fall into GRACE.
It is a time to weep…what was is passing.
What is to come remains unseen
and for this moment~~~it hardly matters.
NOW the trees cry.

Bend with them and listen—
it just might break you enough
to realize they, yes the trees,
embrace the mystery more than You or I.


Ghost Wagon

Ghost Wagon

You ‘see’ it don’t you?
I mean really ‘see’
it is anything but ‘hollow.’

At night—it is then you can
see it and them—
Yes them…

When the stars light the sky,
the canopy covers the wagon.
A team of galloping stallions
begins shuffling its hooves.

Inside…there they are
artists in their own right
poets at play, and a choir
of heavenly hosts.

Paints of endless colors begin to blend—
words flow from a pencil’s lead
and the singing is soft almost silent
as ghosts go traveling to ‘bedrooms’
where dreamers sleep unknown.

The haunting—
sweet mystery
send messages to the slumberer’s
visions, illuminations, transfigured
awaiting a sign.
Yet, no sign need come
nor message be
BUT—if one
a treasure at last.

sleep peacefully
tonight and, if you
hear the sound of
hoof beats, close your

The ghosts in the
wagon are
coming at last.

Little One

Little One

What did you find?
Oh, yes…it is a treasure
It is such an amazing ‘gift’
that you could never put it in
a box with a pretty ribbon
for it cannot be contained.

My only wish…
no one take away what
you’ve discovered…
I pray you are not told
‘ARISE’…look how dirty your knees are
‘look’ how wet your new pants are.
Now, hurry…get up—

I pray no one says, come now
we must be going…better things to do
with our time than simply gaze into water
and skip stones on her crest…
Oh, don’t ever let go of this treasure.

I pray the silence here fills you again
and again—so you’ll never tire of coming back.
The noises you’ll hear in your ‘space,’ what
others will call home…never accept them as the norm.
Run back to the treasure you first discovered, Little One…



How could I pick it?
How could I not
and yes, so I did…

I took a deep ‘breath’
and blew ‘the seeds
not 10
not 20
not 30
so many more.

‘They’…each tiny seed
caught in the wind’s~~~
whisper and spread
to places of newness
to lands, waiting for that
one seed to find its way
to ‘change’ the face of
the landscape…

God says~~~
how could I pick ‘you’ from my garden?
How can I not says God
and so God did…

God breathed~~~ God’s very breath
and blew
not 10
not 20
not 30
but so many ‘beautiful’
images of God’s self
out of the womb of Eden
and into a world~~~
the landscape of creation.

Each of us~~~God breathed
into life.
We have ‘seeds
within us…unique
gifts only we can

Trust the Spirit in ‘YOU’
and may the wind
carry you to what you
still cannot imagine.



Began with the birthing of
out of the brilliance of darkness.

Stardust drizzled from a bursting star
gifting the landscape.

A single breath
through a nostril of Divine
Wonder brought into life’s
Cosmic Mystery

‘we’ were added to the dance—
to the ebb & flow—
to relational
love-making of Holy Awe.

this was
the message

Fulfillment was
it is in our

Get On

Get On

Quick, quick
come quickly now.

Yes…it’s time.
You know…
You see…

Come…get on—
that’s it.

all together.

can you hear it?
It is silence~~~
Quiet now…
Empty all thought…
isn’t it beautiful?

Still, still, still
The echoes of silence.

Get on, get on
before you ‘rush’ to get off.

Keep balanced—
we are in this together.

There is no telling where the silence
will lead…really it does not matter.

And …perhaps it does~~~
If we simply silence ourselves
maybe we will come to know one another
without ALWAYS speaking.

Perhaps we will ‘see’
how similar we
are and balance on
this cosmic globe.

Silence…can you
‘hear’ the world

You have it…
Get on~~~
the dance has

Where Will Our Children Play

Where Will Our Children Play

We wake
and both choose our favorite blend.
Aroma rising…
‘we’ fill our cups to the brim.

You pick up the paper—
I put down the noise.
You read the headlines—
I gaze at the stars.

In between sentences you hear about the violence
and wars
while I’m perched hearing the
songs of the waking birds.

You shudder, aghast…health care
reform, deficits, tax increases,
millions of dollars to pilot air force one.
I sit beside the trees bending
to greet the sun.
A breeze runs through my hair
while a chipmunk scurries
through the blanketed grass.  A
dragonfly lands resting itself upon
my knee…

You are not wrong…
I am not right.
‘We’ both ‘see’ yet, through
different lenses.

‘We’ both ask,
‘Where, where will our children
If ‘we’ don’t listen NOW and
rise for them…what will any
of this mean?

Can we ‘stop’ the division
and seek a way—
without answers, yet a common
goal of justice for all?

What really is equality?
Stop hiding in the shadows
negating what is ‘real.’

You see, you see…
get off the pulpit—
try ‘seeing’ from the pew.

Where, where will our children
Are we able to get them off i pads—
so they can hear…stories,
told orally, from of old?
Are we able to avoid fast foods in
a rush to get to the next
and share with them
the sacred art of
spitting watermelon seeds
(are you laughing…
Are we able to push them away
from the T.V. and let
them run through the
Are we able to let them
fully clothed get wet?

You and I may ‘see’
but I know
We both want our
children to PLAY—

Down the Block

Down the Block

Down the block…
the past unseen
and it was brimming with life.

No one ‘saw’ the first ‘Son’ rise
or beheld all the shooting stars.

No one witnessed the first flower—
unfolding petals created landscapes of carpeted cushioned beds
and yet ‘she’ stood
apart, separate from any rib.

She already was
because she came from down the block.
Her voice burst, like a BANG, and opened the cosmic storm.
Yes…Sophia~~~Wisdom shook the splendor
and wonder-lust of nothingness
splashing light
radiating darkness.

It was not from her rib that ‘He’ came into
being, but He from her heart
down the block.

She needed no introduction or Heavenly Queen-ship.
Her being was love personified
and her tears
fill the pools, the oceans and rivers
who still know it was ‘she’ who
brought all things to be.

Silently she speaks as
her daughters
find their voices
down the blocks of ages past.



Tell me of your desires
and I will tell you of mine.

When I sit gazing upon a tree,
I desire every part of my being
to be nestled deep into the soil.
I want to ‘breathe’ packed in mud
and shoot through the veins of
the trunk until I’m dangling
from a branch.
I want a caterpillar to nibble
upon my leaves
and I want the birds to
sit within me singing, singing, singing.
That is my desire
and I am One with the tree.

When I splash into the sea,
I desire to be a wave folding
over & over gathering sand
and displacing it so it can discover
new shores.
I want to be calm one moment and
then move into a tempest
swirling every which way—
no direction necessary.
That is my desire
and I am One with the Sea.

When I stare at the
sky, I desire to be a
cloud…puffy, white
and full of vapors.
I want to hear the
sound of little children
magically trying to
create something from
my formation. I
desire the painted blue
screen I float within
to intertwine in me
until at last I am
One with the Sky.

When I climb a mountain,
I desire to reach its
summit just as when
I enter a canyon
I desire to get down
into its endless
All this—I desire to
be One with the
mountain and the

Tell me of your desires
and I will tell you of mine.

Wings unfolded, talons
I desire to be a hawk
lunging with the ease of
eyeing the trout skimming
the water’s surface—
Darting…any sort of brake
in my talons.
I seize the mighty fish
and off to my nest I fly…
my young already delighting
in the tasty water spectacle.
My desire in that one single
bite,  a taste of holy communion,
and now my feathers dry
in the cool summer’s breeze.

My hooves touch the ground,
but in a moment of fearful
desperation I leap…my legs
life springs…a gentle deer I
desire to be.

In early mornings…the sweet
nibble of fresh grass then down
to the river the deer saunters to lap up the jewels
of the stream—
An animal of such grace.
My steps, a rhythmic dance…
I am One with the
deer and my
desires embraced.

Tell me of your desires
and I will tell you of mine.
I desire to be a bell
in a tower cast in
far away lands.
Yet, when I ring—
when my whole being
swings clanging the
chimes to the bronzed
all who listened
no matter how
would ‘hear’
their desires
and in that moment
all desires would
be ONE
and then suddenly
a Divine Reality
would whisper

Yes…your desire
is good.


Two Stones

Two Stones

On a shoreline
two solitary stones sat side by side
naturally, there were hundreds if not
thousands of other stones gathered
beside the two—

yet, together they gazed upon life
they shared very few words
they enjoyed basking in the sun—together
they savored the rains…being washed anew—together
they were comforted by winter’s white blanket—together
they laughed in the fog when they could not ‘see’ one another—
but, together they knew they were
side by side
never alone

Then one day—a storm raged
the waves pounded the shoreline
the pummeling crash of the ocean’s fierce breath
turned the tides—making loose one of the stones
and it was washed into the surf
carried by the waves sweeping in and out…

Gone…so it seemed—
the other stone now appeared lost
it felt the sun in a new way in the absence of
the Other
the rain now was like a tiny pool in the Other’s space
the snow fell cushioning extra layers
reminding the stone of the Other’s presence
when the fog rolled in the stone imagined the Other
and in the Other’s absence the stone knew
the Other near…nearer than ever

the Other was ‘transformed’ into ‘everything’
around, within and about the stone—
and its loneliness was no more

A Sailing Ship

A Sailing Ship

There I was
nestled near the edge
of the shore
when suddenly it made
its way across the
glass-countered sea top…

Moving with ease,
it did not ‘see’ me and so
I carefully hid myself
behind a patch of elevated
cat tails

No sails moved this
unique vessel…
this sailing ship— not
even a motor

A large tip~~~its bow
and its stern
a giant paddle caressing
the seas

The body of this ship
strong—yet, its movement like
a soft feather tucked
inside a bird’s nest

Closer and closer it came
I could not resist to catch
a ‘full’ glance and at that
the tail parted the sea
creating a splash which soaked me
with delight…

the sailor’s ship now submerged
and I~~~soaked with laughter

She Hung There

She Hung There

It was time
did she really understand
what it meant?
I think not…

“Still,” she set her silky
She spun it round and round herself—
it was a ‘perfect’ fit…for now

She thought to herself…
I could stay like this forever
BUT…something began to happen
in the silent, waking months

Her cocoon, a warm safe haven
was simply too snug
so she pushed, stretched, and caught her
breath…yes~~~she heard her breath

She burst from her dwelling
a hidden womb tucked in
the branches of a
tender tree

The tent…now an empty
and she a ‘transforming’ image
of the One who first formed
her to Be




Can you ‘see?’
are you able to open your
heart to embrace the
pupils‘ you cannot view
beneath the hoodie…?

Some’one’ is underneath
the cover
Why is she/he shielded?
Have you asked?
Perhaps you’ve drawn a conclusion.

Why the choice not to
be revealed?
Has the person beneath the hoodie been abandoned,
left out, cast aside?

Has anyone touched the face
caressed the many tears
that flow under its protective

Who is truly under the ‘hoodie?’
Is it perhaps you or me?
Maybe ‘we’ don’t wear our
hoodie outwardly, but do we

Why the hoodie?
I don’t have the answers,
but I do know what it feels
like to have my face

the warmth of a loving presence

I’ve never been the same…

Let’s try to embrace at least
one face, one invisible face
captured under the hoodie


Whooo Said…

Whooo said…

Who said one must color in between the lines?
Did they ever really take the time to look
up into the sky dancing with magical creatures
in the puffy white clouds~

Who said one must sleep during the night
and miss the splendor of the darkness
and the stars shooting across a sea of
blanketed velvet glass?

Who said the deepest truths and mysteries
in life have all been discovered?
Was ‘anyone’ really there when all
matter was formed, when energy flowed
in directions that never moved in any
way other than everywhere and nowhere?

Who said the first ‘breath‘ of life
was experienced by a human?
They’ve never seen a flower push its way through a solid rock and
blossom like it is the only thing
existing in this very moment.

Whooo said, ‘Owls’ only come
out at night?
Certainly not I…

I may not be as wise as
our ‘feathered friend’—
Yet, we can all reach for the moon.

Who said it has not already reached us
and ‘touched’ us with its magnificent GLOW.

Who said, “All things are Possible…”
Who said

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