That Vase

There’s a voice I heard once

When I put my ear to that vase

A scream I thought at first

Then a whimper

A song that trailed into a prayer

Or the other way around

A voice I’d not heard before

Until now, remembering that vase

I hear the tides

The mermaids

The witches finger that tickled my earlobe

As they did that day

And I’m not sure if life was ever the same after that

Or if life stayed the same but my eyes viewed differently

Or maybe I just listened more

Because the more I listen

The deeper I see

And in those depths

The volume of silence gets really deafening

And as I loosen my grip on noise

The unknown unravels

And maybe that vase

Was the beginning of my unravelling

Or maybe

I just heard myself more vividly within starry stained glass walls

It’s all a little strange, isn’t it

No matter what I write

Is nonsensical to someone

So the upside down

Of the mermaids tail

And the witches breath

And the starry glass

Are all mine

Until I listen to a bigger vase.

Sister, I See You

Sister, I see you

I have done all along

I’ve stood under the stars you dream

Your woes are in my song.

I see the woman you’ve become

Perfection, that’s you now

No questions need to haunt your heart

Of when or where or how.

For all of that, the heavy doubt

The worries you hold true

Shall flow behind courageous blood

The sacred light in you.

For sister, you have hidden deep

A wisdom like no other

As from you born, not just a child

But warrior and mother.

Red Paint

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There are days when I envision myself crawling through mud.

Being cradled by beds of clay and fertile dirt. My light depending upon the struggle, this intensity of needing to collapse into primal states feels more real than morning rituals.

Let the worms bury beneath me.

Let the woodlouse tickle my belly as they mount the mountain of me.

Let me be where theres no explanation. No why or how or whats next?

I am not enlightened here nor unworthy to call myself eternally divine.

I am not an understanding person as that sets me above.

No righteousness is homed within my marrow, cells vibrate with the waves of the ocean, no longer reacting to the 6 o’clock news.

I’m nothing recognised here, Im absolutely unravelled like the root of a willow tree. Above the water when the sun shines and submerged after the storm.

And in truth, I feel permanently sorry. Confusion rising daily, as the silence is broken by morning birdsong. I’ve forgotten what it means to be held by Great Mother and nourished by our Lords love.

So for all that is real in me, my blood that runs, let it run freely into the earth. Let that be.

My gift back, returned to Her. My life flow.

Words are constructed but my bleeding, a greater creation.

And if I could paint my face with this vibrant colour pouring from me, without outraged eyes beating back all that is natural, I would.

I’d crawl in the mud to the weathered rocks and bleed.

I’d no longer be littered with pollutive chatter nor my fins caught in wire nets, trawled to set an example or sacrificed in the name of conformance.

I am interconnected to Her, to Him, to the holy and sacred spirit. Ignited by the magic our ancestors hoped we’d comprehend, believing to be woven into our DNA. And maybe we do comprehend, more than we hope. We swim fully armoured to stay afloat yet all that is asked for us to remember the infinity of our soul is to fall. To mightily surrender to where it is only god who can carry our breath.

It would be with red on my face, bloody fingers painting so uninhibitedly that id crawl thankfully through the dirt I’ve been so desperate to clean myself from.

No more.

Is There?

Is there not this way inside

I can switch on like a TV

Is there a weed and a buttercup

Hidden deeply within me?

Is there not a song I’ve lost

Down trodden roads forgotten

Is there notes that weave away

The rocks at the very bottom

Is there not a deafening flow

Where grease is washed from my hair

Is there a me that is more than bones

And I witness both sides of the pair

Is there all of this and more

Cycled a million times through

These colours,

This dance

This patterned dream

This life I do how I do.

Seen

I hope not to be seen

By the knower that’s been

Nor the giver, the taker

The holy thou maker

Don’t ram with I think

When my life’s at the brink

‘It sure worked for them’

This rumouring stem

I hope not to be questioned

No shoulds ever mentioned

No rites to my ‘wrongs’

Fine tuning my songs

Don’t raid me with yours

Those outpouring doors

Fast halting the ripple

Black taping the nipple

Not my world, that’s you

Those rules you hold true

Keep them close, if you may

Your minute, your day

Not mine.

If There Is Such A Way

Surrounded by a million tones, not woven by me

And I cannot decipher one from another

But there is a symphony of perfection to be drank all at once

And I am drunk

Drunk on the shades of spring

Yet still I chatter a thousand woes, haunting the evening waves

Am I a lunatic?

For it feels the moon draws all that dwells involuntary

Would I choose this crazy distinction?

I’d rather root beneath the worms and grow without this trouble

Where all I would want is to slowly dance to where I rest most comfortably

Or to climb the walls, not afraid of position

Is this my prison, believing I am not such a way?

That fate is my own doing

I often pray my thoughts to be swiftly caught by an eagles claw, then released far from land

Filtered by the salt and dispersed upon the seabed, food for the fishes

Ideals I’ve collected, are they to sculpt me? Like hands without permission roaming my naked skin

I quiver

And may I throw that to the birds also

So how,

If there is such a way

Am I to be?

Steady

I wonder if I was a cat in a past life

Staring at the birds

Lazing for hours

Except in this life I don’t pounce on prey

I devour those darting movements, those transparent beams fighting inside

And I’m too rapid as I eat

As they repeat

Again and again

I can see my habits reflected in distractions that carried me here

And are those distractions working?

This cycle, drawing up soils I’ve neglected for 35 years knows little of the answer

And these worms I found, would they have satisfied the cat I was

Would the seeds I planted grow into life that nourishes me and my babies

I shrug, as for now

Being the human I appear to be

Am hungry

Not because the soil isn’t fertile

But I’ve boxed time so neatly that no root had a chance to bed a home, to spread

I can be still for hours, like a lioness

But once I move

It’s violent

And I may have forgotten where I left my cubs

So for now I roam alone

Until I remember that the rain can find me better when I grow tall, steadily.

No life wants to hide away from the sun.

My Favourite Fairies

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Last night in my dreams

I climbed high up a tree

And I spoke to the fairies

Who live higher than me

Their wings were green

And were brighter than bright

I could see them coming

In the darkness of night

They whispered they’d heard me

Before I could ask

And I couldn’t believe

They knew my wish so fast

And with that they went

Before saying any more

I frowned and felt cheated

Then fell to the floor

“Those fairies are rubbish

They don’t grant wishes

I should have gone to the water

And asked all the fishes”

But as I walked home

Bare foot in the woods

I was stopped by some wolves

Faces shaded by hoods

I screamed to the fairies

“You know that I’m scared

Why send me these wolves

If you really cared”

I froze from the fear

And awaited my fate

I’ll be tasty I’m sure

On their wolf sized plate

But all fell silent

And I opened one eye

The wolves they nodded

And passed me by

I laughed to myself

Oh fairies, you’re wise

You sent me my wish

In a hairy disguise

As to you I had prayed

That I’d live my days

Driven not by fear

But in courageous ways