I Cannot Believe in That God Any More
that giant man with a biblical beard
looming in the sky
unhappy with my mistakes
sending me bad stuff.
The God I love
is a beach blanket
wild with orange and hot pink patterns
sheer enough for light and air
to drift through,
the kind of blanket
that catches in the sunny beach breeze,
flapping and bubbling,
the blanket I can’t wait to
smooth across the hot sand
and plunk my goofy bones down on
so that I can partake in the full menu
of blissful beach therapies:
sand, salt air, surf, sun, sleep.
On ordinary days, like today,
when God is not a beach blanket,
she picks up her knitting
and settles down next to me on the couch
so I can take a nap without worrying.
As I lose myself in the reverie
of the God/beach-blanket metaphor
and all its possibilities,
she loops her long hair behind her ear,
leans over, all pleased and all,
and kisses my forehead,
right on the third eye.
12 Things I Am Grateful For This Year
Day 1: Color
Sun. Fern. Spotted Fawn.
Maples leaves. Storm clouds.
My inner palette
is saturated, ready
to cradle winter.
Monday Morning Mary: Your Core Is Light
If you look upon your mistake,
and see it as a dark flower
on a vine that you can travel down
to your dreadful core,
you strangle your goodness.
Your mistake is just a weed
that took shallow root.
You may even have planted it
yourself, thinking it was a wildflower.
Weeds come and go
with the weather.
Do not tangle yourself.
That heals no one.
Go to your core,
which is not rotten,
but pure light.
In that white center,
you are free
to choose another seed.
Here, they are all
Our Lady Star of the Sea
Where Did You Go Right
You are so thoughtful,
wanting to learn from your mistakes,
looking to do things better next time.
But you’ve done enough of that.
Now it’s time to stop building
that same stepping stone
over and over again.
Step on it with courage.
From your new vantage point,
your vision grows larger.
We are so wise
when it comes to others.
We can see clearly
exactly what it is they
should do to fix their problems.
We may even give “advice,”
and when these others
do not follow our or any other advice,
and their lives worsen
we suffer extra
from our own anger
What if we could see our advice
as false wisdom,
and instead of judgment,
Compassion for those who don’t do
what they should
to help themselves.
This would also mean
holding up a mirror
to see our own veering
from wise fixes
and healthy practices,
Life isn’t easy.
You’re doing just fine.
Take a chance.
Pull off the woolen hat
that muffles your ears.
Listen to the birds.
Set aside how cold you feel
and sense the deeper
thing, the secret
moon that rises
in you, pulling
the waters of your
soul to new shores
where something wild and
your creative embrace.
Moon photo courtesy of Jay Racanelli
leaves are spilling from the trees
trees are filling now with glitter
tis the season to glamourize
the dark, impoverished places
retreat from sales and cyber days
open a browser on your soul
shop the aisles of your inner store
all the glitter you desire awaits
search for someone who needs your love
adorn their day with a sparkling truth
make yourself a glittering globe
all the light you need awaits
For National Poetry Month, a poem featuring my dog.
Ode to a Dumb Blonde (Dog)
You are shaped like a banana
You are pale gold like a banana
You are sweet
and soft and mushy and funny
like a banana
and like a banana,
you are good for me
let’s sit in the sunshine together
two fruits in a grass bowl
back into the earth
Today’s poem for National Poetry Month was inspired by an excerpt from a lecture by John O’Donohue:
“materialism is an epistemology of quantity…the mistaken belief that through an accumulation, you can settle the task of your own identity.”
From The Inner Landscape.
Sometimes I still buy things for a life I no longer have
or maybe even for a life I never had,
but dreamed of.
On the brown chair in the corner,
the bag of things waits,
its logo wailing the Siren song
that I have followed down aisles and aisles and
craving the sugar that would make me feel
beautiful or smart or at least slightly less
Even though they are perfect, or almost so, or not so at all,
I’m returning these things
because I feel worse keeping them.
They remind me of time I wasted
going off course, settling for rocks.
Who could I have been,
if I had chosen something
other than shopping?
Today’s poem was inspired by a breakfast recipe called Decadent Kale and Pomegranate Breakfast Salad by Maria over at Plant-Based Slow Motion Miracle. I absolutely love this recipe, which is basically kale, grain, and fruit mixed in a delicious chocolate sauce (made from banana and raw cacao).
I made this recipe for my niece (a whole foods enthusiast) for her bridal shower this past weekend, and I wrote this poem to go with it. I had been wondering about what wisdom I might share with her about marriage. The answer was in my breakfast bowl filled with an odd mix of ingredients that after many mornings still delights me.
Life is a Bowl of Cherries and Kale
Success in marriage:
blending two opposing thoughts
in yummy chocolate