The Ark

…it was not only humans aboard that ark—
or ‘outside’ in those turbulent waters.



A poet’s
knows how to lick
the frozen glass,
remain ‘unstuck’
and instead…
go on
licking as if
sucking on a
savoring the juices
and letting them
through her pen.


Find time to ‘play’…
there you will rediscover the essence of who you are.

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

what no ‘eye’ ever beheld.
A vast sea of darkness~~~
Moving, making way,
swirling like a
concoction whirled in
a blender set on
Still, invisible.

it was the dark
that made A WAY
for the light…
It split itself so
a brilliant
‘glow’ could be
made manifest—
Its magnificence
would be as if a
void if not for the
sheer ‘blackness’
of being.

Why do we fear the
Afraid to go out in
the pavement’s sky…
Hot tar bedeckled
with painted stars
and the effervescent
a giant balloon
floating freely
lit by a constant
flame of darkness
holding its rising.

In the darkness—
If we sit even for
a moment, ‘we’ will
begin to see the
landscape before us.

With ‘new’ eyes
our pupils dilated—
perhaps we, too, will
also ‘see’ the
shadows within us
that we run from
‘blinded’ by the light
of the day.

Don’t be afraid of
the dark—
Go out and dance
‘in’ it—
This way you cannot
control your steps.
Trust the ground
beneath your footsteps~~~
Leap into the unknown.

Where you land—
does it really matter?
Perhaps, you’ll discover
the place you’ve always
been for a first time
and trust the ‘unseeing’

Wake Up

Wake up—no time for sheeping!

The Writer

The Writer

at a white sheet
of paper—
no lines.

And then…
“some-thing” nudges—

one after another
pour from a soul
let loose like a

All at once
the flow~~~calm.
Then they begin
cascading over and over
the once ‘blank’ sheet.

The pen unleashed in
the writer’s hand
now hits the rapids—
the white water.

Words spew in
every direction.
Still, there is a

Whatever exists
beyond the bend
does not matter,
the moment
is exactly this place.

The words go
under water
gasping for breath—
they are held in
what seems an eternity.

Yet, when they
break the surface~~~
feel the rhythm of
the wind~~~
they again trust
the mastery
‘in’ the flow.

The blank page—

The river
never once the same.

This writer
the vessel
which can never
again be tied
to the shore.


Let the unfolding happen…
it is then you discover your natural beauty.

A Fragile Mind

A Fragile Mind

Perhaps, for
whose encumbered
minds begin to
there is great gain.

Just hear me.
They no longer know
most of all who
‘THEY’ are.
They no longer have to
wonder or question
this ‘BEING’ any longer.
Is there gain in this?

For the on-looker
there is a search…
A pain that ‘they’
may no longer be
known by this ‘OTHER’ (This is their pain)
who brought them to life—
or walked with them
through life as a lover
and a friend.

This time in life
for the fragile mind—
it knows that the fullness of the
moon is quickly melting and
holds on, holding on—

they’ll be cared for (not their material treasures)
THEY will be
looked after—
not abandoned.

It is for each of
us, collectively
and at times
to answer
how ‘we’ will
care for the Ones
in our lives
preparing for their

I pray that in the beyond
they will know
only ‘GOOD’
was shown to them
and love was
the ONLY reason
for what was done.

In her words…a dedication to Maya Angelo















“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you…”  Maya Angelo

Artwork by S. Mattucci


Cast yourself AWAY from the shore…
trust the wind (Sophia) to lead you where you are meant to go.

I Woke…

The Book of Life

The Book of Life

Is your name written in
the Book of Life?

Why, of course, it is!
If you think it NOT
Start writing!

If you think you cannot
write, begin putting your
pen or pencil to a piece
of paper and let
whatever words spill out
fill the sheet WAITING—

Draw your name!
What, you cannot draw?
Then paint, use ink…
squash a blueberry
and smear its juices
every which way.

Laugh, loudly—
Sing your name into
the Book!
You don’t believe you
have a voice?
Shout then—yes,
at the top of
your lungs—

Yes, proclaim your name.
Don’t worry if you
wake ‘someone.’

Maybe you’ll ‘awaken’
them enough
to help them
to dance.

Yes dance—
Dance your name
into the book
…think you
cannot dance?
By ‘goodness’
then waltz or
better yet, break dance.

Your name
is in the Book
called Life.

If you don’t
believe it
creating it
and trust~~~
You’ll Appear.

You always have been.



The World opens ‘Her’ windows to us—“Look, look” she whispers… “See.



You spread your arms
raising them beyond the mountain tops.
You call down the morning dew
wetting the landscape.
Your leafy hair gives shade to
the birds that occupy your branches.
You, a haven, a sturdy shelter—
In ‘your’ center a heart beats
echoing through your trunk
a sound only the ‘tuned’ ear can hear.
Your roots penetrate the soils of time…
you endlessly move the ground as you stretch
into your fulness.
Hammered by the tempest’s mighty winds
you stand~~~reshaped…
fashioned by the ‘Maker’ from whose
womb you burst forth.
Your fruits endless—you cannot stop
giving life and life in abundance.
I hear you breathing~~~
you have taken over my core.
From you, I AM~~~
uprooted to this moment.
I do not understand.
Anything I thought I knew has
vanished into the wind.
A NEW song sings through the trees
and I need not know the tune—
I simply hum along.
















Written and painted by me at Skidmore College: Women’s Voices for (a) Change/2013
under the wise tutelage of Artist, Susan Bello Ph.D.

A Point

Whether you are looking from the inside out or
the outside in…find the point where everything you ‘see’ matters.

The Stone

The Stone…













I was traveling
down a roadway
cruising about 65
when suddenly before
me I began to
see vignettes—
road signs—
images of my life—
years gone by.

My speed began
to slow down
as I gazed
‘beyond’ each scene.

Sometimes I had to
close my eyes
caught up in moments
only to open them
quickly enough to
hold the road.

Looking ‘into’ painted
No matter what had
taken place—
I paused, realizing how
those days gone by
brought me here, NOW—
Yes, to this moment of GRACE.

Then my vehicle came to
a stop—an overpass
up ahead~~~
Graffiti sprayed ‘into’ the cement…
truly it was a work of ART.

The message read,

All the scenes of my life~~~
the past…
brought me to this AWAKENED time.

Nothing impossible—
For I AM Possible
As are YOU…

Choose your signs
and what you follow.


A Potter’s Field

A Potter’s Field

Let’s begin
by removing the
Elephant from
the room.

I’m certain you’ve
heard the cliche’.

there is ‘space’

the Potter’s Field
was ONLY open
to foreigners.

You know—
the social misfits…
the ones who did
not belong.

Oh, let’s just say it—
today’s homeless,
prostitutes, illegal aliens,
I think we could name
many more.

The Potter’s Field
was purchased for
30 silver coins—
today it is known
as the Field of Blood.

A burial ground
for the outcast—
the Ones not ‘chosen’…
the Ones NOT in the
right group.

The 30 silver coins
a temptation
for the fellow
who walked beside
hoping he would
bring about change.

He did not
grasp the ‘message’
his brother delivered—
Have we truly understood it?

His pain so deep
he returned the silver coins
BUT the tempters
could not take back
what had been given.
They wanted to
BUT they did not want
blood on their hands—
easier to find the ‘scapegoat’.

Consequences so dire…
The Potter’s Field
soils ‘holding’ foreigners—
it is no wonder
that ‘they’ surely will

Healing the Ear of the Servant

Healing the Ear of the Servant

a collective ‘ONE’—
A Royal ‘Priesthood.’

The Christ, (Cosmic)
everything BUT a priest from
the Tribe of Levi.

When Peter swung his sword
in the darkness of the
He cut off the right ear
of the high priest’s servant,


The Christ, placed his hand
upon his ear—
his right ear,
a visible sign (maybe),
an act made ONLY by
the priest
under the law
marking the selected~~~Ordained.

Still—this simple itinerant
performed an action
ONLY the priest could
endow to enact the
sacrifice—the atonement.

Only a few droplets of blood
on the servant’s shoulder
and then they ‘removed’~~~in chains
the ONE
who ‘ended’ the meaning
no longer necessary.

The old ways no longer—
a new WAY begun.

Yes~~~‘One’ Royal Priesthood


never really alone

Please…Don’t Judge Me

Please…Don’t Judge Me

In between the words
a silent pause—
an unspoken truth
not written.

why spill the ugliness
of what has
already been done.

Don’t judge my
Look in the mirror
and face yourself.

Who is your God?
Name your ‘idolatry.’
Do you belong to a
certain ‘tribe’ to
justify your
sorry self?

Find your ‘I AM’
in all—
Then you can spend
less time
trying to ‘read me.’

Please…don’t judge me.
Try loving yourself
and begin to
shoulder your own
blame for all
you think you are not.

Then you may be able to
stand on your own
two feet
before your earth is gone.


Almost…time to set Sail



Come, come now
little pups

Do not tarry.

Trust…when ‘we’
arrive there shall
be an abundance
of crumbs.

you shall eat
until you are full
because you do
not ask for more
than what is
your worth.

The worth
of my child
cannot be ‘tagged.’

The value of
any child
should never
heed a price.
Every child Is

Every ‘living’ creature
a treasure
far more precious
than diamonds or pearls.

Come now
little pups

You no longer
have to drag
your tails.

Wag them
again and again
until the message
be carried
by the sweeping
of your endless joy.

He ‘received’ the
message ONLY after
we crept into
the segregated meeting

At first
our voices were hushed—

Oh…but your
bark little pup
gave way—

I watched my
little child
now at play
catching your tails

scattering the crumbs
still covering the floor.















Canaanite Woman(Adapted by this writer from Matthew 15:21-28)




If The “god”…

If The “god”…

If the ‘god’ you
place your trust in
asks you to ‘divide,’
to choose, to pick…

Maybe you need to
re-think or
even better STOP thinking.

Your mind has a way
of playing tricks on you
especially when it
seeks ONLY what
serves YOU.

Perhaps the ‘god’ you
serve is you
as you turn on the
T.V. and select
the politics that
represent ‘your’ side,
your views—
try turning it off.

Just a thought…
the church you enter
is it open to all?
Does the ‘god’ inside
welcome every person?
If not—stop going.

Are you struggling
while reading these words?
Is the ‘god’ in you
shouting, “Stop reading.’

Listen now
maybe the One who
‘lives’ inside you
finally has your

You will not be able
to go back.

If you choose to
embrace the ‘Source’
dwelling in all of Life—
dualities no longer exist.

You will desire to love
more deeply
and the sweetness of bliss will
melt the scales
from your eyes.


And so they hung wanting to know what winter was like…

As the Springtime of the year arrived, they let go with the touch of the soft wind…
Reborn into ‘every’ today.

A Man Healed

A Man Healed

A story is told
of a man
filled with ‘unclean-spirits’…
demons, if you will,
or Legion meaning “many.”

Perhaps this man
was possessed by
nothing but grief.
Maybe the ‘systems’ (political and religious)
under which he lived,
continued to tax
everything so severely
and knowingly
that this man lost

His wife taken because
of her beauty.
His children removed—
utilized as slaves
of pleasure.
His land stripped
from him.

Each day
this torment
haunted him~~~
hurling him
against rocks.
He—left only in
despair while
his neighbors passed
him by
turning their faces
so as NOT to see.

Then, someone passed
NOT staring.
He took his brother
by his hand.

In a single touch…
a display of
kindness, compassion—
each ‘cemented’ thought
in the man’s mind
began to crumble.

A herd of swine
devoured the crumbled pieces
thinking it food.
Both men looked on.  The swine
had taken in all the ‘spoil’—
and NOW they rushed to the cliff’s edge
and plunged into the water.

How sad.  Indeed,
these swine
devouring such sadness.

The men paused…
looking into the eyes of each
other inquiring without
words, “Did you see that?”

Not a word spoken.

The villagers came out
to see what all
the raucous was about.
The ground rumbled
and they thought it thunder.

They gazed in amazement—
their ‘broken’ neighbor
upright, healed.

He leaped from the
ground rushing to
embrace his community—
BUT, they looked past him.

“Wait” he said,
“Look it’s really me…
I’m well.”

Instead, they rushed
the Other man.
“Leave at once—
Get out of here—
Remove yourself
before we do.”

No one stopped to
‘celebrate’ the joy in
their neighbor’s pain—
Their ONLY concern…
those swine were their
‘source’ of income—
now what should
they do?

The man healed wished to
follow this stranger—
the One told him to
go and tell others
the story—
and, so he did.

The One man
slipped way.
Maybe you heard his story?
He tried and tried—
still some refused to ‘see.’

This story…
real today…
so many going about
trying and trying—

A single touch.
A transformed moment.
There are those who
‘see’ and those
who only count
their loss.

They fill their own
while the orphans
and widows
‘BELIEVE’ and pray.



(Adapted by this writer from Luke 8:26-39)


“…just as a hen gathers her brood under her wing…” Lk 13:34

A Sabbath Day

A Sabbath Day

Eighteen years
bent over
and here it was
the Sabbath.

Her back broken
like a tree
no longer able
to sway in
the wind.

All those years—
She was so beautiful
and they had to
have her.

They devoured her—
relieving themselves
time and time again.

They broke her,
but she still

No one would have
dis-ability left
her unwanted,
rejected, a disgrace.

Why, she,
like so many others
‘removed’ of their name…
“HER” identity.

She spoke—
without words.

She ‘stood‘ bent
over in the Synagogue
on the Sabbath.

A hand placed upon
her—not for want.
A touch ‘setting’ her
free of the infirmities
inflicted upon her.

Every day, ‘SHE’
found moments
to ‘rest’
in the wind
the branches
of her being.















A Woman Healed of Her Infirmity
(Adapted by this writer from Luke 13:10-17)


“Write your own words and let them ‘carry’ you out to sea
beyond the sight of any shore…”

The Temple

The Temple

Have you been to
the Temple lately?

You know
that ‘perfect’ place—
that dwelling place—
where incense burns
prayers heard
chants sung
silence echoes
everyone‘ welcomed?

Have you found that
Are you going about
Are you ‘shopping’ for
the Place?

If you have ever
trusted anything you
have read
or heard—

The ‘Temple’ is
inside YOU…
You are a HOLY
dwelling place—
You choose what resides
in your be-ing.

Ahhh, but you say~~~
“I’m so far
from perfect.”

Yes…it is in your
imperfection that
you discover the LIVING SOURCE
already residing in you.

You are a Temple
of love—
‘Keep’ your Heart’s door
open for all—

Yes, even for the ones who
close you out…

“BE” only a place of welcome.

Why do we rush Winter?

Why do we rush Winter?

Spring is on the
cusp of morning’s endless
horizons and

Winter still dwells
waiting to be

A landscape
decked in a brilliant
white blanket
layer upon layer
of frothy ice.

Down ‘below’
withheld from the
human eye

Earth breaking open
in song~~~
a dance
being choreographed.

Endless, uncompromising
‘births’ taking place
giving way to life
that no Springtime
could re-create.

Settle in—
Embrace the frigidity
of this season
it may warm you—
yes, this tapestry
of snow.

Snuggle into each
unique ‘flake’—
no two are alike.
Hold onto
the brilliance
until it melts
in your hand
and you hold
a drop

Allowing it to fall
back into the land
to taste its
purest wine.


Do You See In Color?

Do You See In Color?

How do you See?
Do you allow colors
to blend, mix
and change
creating hues as breathless
as the morning’s sunrise?

Have you separated
the magic in each unique
holding the ‘grace’ hidden
within the uniqueness of
its spring?

Please tell me we’ve moved
beyond which tantalizing color
is better than all the others—
the one most favored.

The Holy Book led
‘persons’ in the past
to believe themselves of more value.

Why—to even think anything
other than white was not
a person.

Wait—anything white and
male was the only thing to be valued.

White, male—
educated, free to speak, free to
imprisoning the rest of humankind
to be subdued to the ‘colors’ he
deemed acceptable.

Are we ‘seeing’ differently NOW?

Has anything really changed?

I respond with a euphoric, “Yes”
as I catch the setting of the sun


I sink to my knees
and my heart screams—NO!

Our system—
of which I AM a part
divides, conquers, competes.

It ‘sees’ ONLY the right colors—
it goes off fighting ‘just’ wars
it keeps brothers and sisters
in the closet—
when they come out they’ll pacify
them…oh, BUT they will not change the RULES.

Women will hear how grand they
are— bridges being built!
Oh, but still stay on your side
of the bridge ‘beautiful lady’—
the altar side is
NOT open for discussion.

What colors are you seeing now?
Search deeply…stop pretending
it is ALL RIGHT!

Let’s paint the sky.
Let’s bring the color back
to its Original Blessing.






Empty…the True Full?

Empty…the True Full?

You’ve heard the question,
“How do you see the glass—
half full or half empty?”

Accolades have gone to
the ‘viewer’ who sees
the ‘content’ half full.

What if…
the one who truly is the
‘seer’ is the one
who views the image

The empty glass
its deepest essence
no longer having
to pour out endless
ideas, filling every
moment with
mindless activities—
‘our’ ego’s need to
feel so important.

What if not a
single drop trickled

We could not keep
immersing ourselves in
pools of yesterday’s
pasts from which
we truly do not wish to
be parted.

If empty—
maybe we could NOW
ONLY be happy!
A moment of bliss
and not an
opportunity to even
sneak a quick dribble
of supposed fullness.

When we are finally
our real journey begins.

All we are meant to be
is now ready to begin…

this mind of mine
rambling on~~~
hears the song in
my heart because it
finally can echo
off the empty glass
and sing on and on.

I’m Sorry

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry for
ever having doubted you.

I’m sorry for not
sitting with you long enough
because ‘everything’ else
seemed more important.

I’m sorry for saying “Yes”
when I really meant “No”
because I was worried
I would not be accepted.

I’m sorry for being
so frightened that I did
not act for the ‘good’ of another.

I’m sorry for my silence—
for holding back my voice
rationalizing how I did not want
to hurt anyone
and in reality imprisoned myself.

I’m sorry for seeing only
the giftedness of others
and excusing myself as unworthy
when in truth I ran from the
gifts inside me.

I’m sorry for not recognizing
that true humility is in
lighting the world
not in being modest and keeping
my glow beneath a bushel.

I’m sorry for being
so damn sorry.

I’ve apologized again
and again and you have sent wave after wave
of unneeded

You splashed me
so deeply with
love I’m soaked—
I’m shivering with

Another immersion…
I’m dripping
tears of joy
causing the sand
to glitter
and you gently

“Now~~~follow me.”


Super Bowl Monday I

Super Bowl Monday I

You read correctly
it is Super Bowl Monday I

What is she saying?
Yes, you are reading
and thinking, “Where is
this going?”

It is Super Bowl Monday I.
You turn on your T.V.
(if you have a T.V.) and
every station is focused
on this BIG day…
Especially the half-time
It is going to be

Every radio station is
tuned in…
The internet is not
even attempting to sell
anything but this
Super Bowl.

Teams are in locker rooms.
The chalk boards reflect
all the ‘plays’
that will be attempted to be

The clock is now in countdown
The stadium is packed—
Not one seat is vacant.
Shouts of joy fill
the air
awaiting the victors of
this Super Bowl Monday I.

The whistle blows—
The teams come pouring

The coin is tossed.

Now, one by one
trucks arrive
gathering food, clothing
and warm blankets for those
who live with ‘nothing.’

Everyone is celebrating…
there is so much
No one shall be without.

Those who placed bets on
this Super Bowl Monday I
are cashing in and
bringing in more packages
to load into the trucks.

Out they go
each team out into the
highways and byways,
city streets and market places.

Planes are loaded—
set off to remote
to lands that people do not
even realize others live.

Yes—it is half-time.
People are ‘receiving’
mouths are filled…
people are brought in from the
cold comforted with good

More items are coming
and the fans are
going wild.

All the ‘plays’ are
running as had been practiced.

I look up at the

At the end of the game
the score

Well…it is simple.

It is a win win.

Super Bowl Monday I

Imagine—can you?



My head upon a pillow—
I am still
and ever so silent
listening ONLY to the
hush of wonder.

My mind traces memories
and I recall
their moments
quickly closing their
chapters to rush back
to the ‘nothingness.’

I breathe.
There it is—‘nothing’
and I welcome its

“Stay, stay,” I cry
as another thought
pushes itself closer
and closer.

I honor the disturbance
welcoming its
inaudible voice with
a polished bow
then whisk it away.

“Nothingness”…you are back!
The moments you were
absent I could not
wait for your return.

This feels like a dance
‘sweet nothingness.”
In our togetherness—
yes, in this hushed womb
of being,
I move without moving.
Yes, my feet do not touch
the floor
only they glaze across
its surface as if we were
skating upon ice.

Union with you, nothingness,
is like being born anew…
sweeter than honey
packed in its comb.

The urgency of the day is
before me
and now I am ready.

I have waltzed in your
and licked the last drop
of your essence from
my lips.

Our encounters are
becoming not only moments,
BUT every moment.
‘You Are’—for I am.






“God, God…”
This, a name
shouted in the
frigid night.

“God” (Perhaps you, too
have called except
by a different name).
God…a word taught
to me from
my youth.

For so long I sought,
waited, longed for
and I cried out all
the more…”God.”

Now, a rush of
blustery wind
sweeps the ‘word’
I desperately seek…
“Come, come” but
instead ‘God’
vanishes like a
feather caught in
the wind.

I, now, fall to my
knees laughing.
Yes, laughing.

I have become
as if drunk—
intoxicated by
this name that has
for I have discovered
you in every living being.

I am drenched in love
frozen and still warmed
by God’s disappearance.

You have vanished into
Even what cannot be
seen~~~ I see.

Are you laughing
with me?

Go out…out
‘into’ the temple
where creation exists.

Catch your breath
call out a name…
Pray it vanishes—
Everything you once

Now—you are free
only to Love.