There’s a ‘drip, drip’ coming from the sink, that I haven’t fixed, it’s been some time, but that sink is my mind and that ‘drip’ is the ‘drip, drip’ of things slipping, I keep tripping over time (or is it space?) I can’t keep a handle on this place, it’s all moving too fast, but that ‘all’ includes me, I’m allowing this perpetuation, this constant noise, consumerization of everywhere you look, ‘eat, EAT’ it’s this mantra on repeat, (cause just stopping isn’t a choice), (not doing anything isn’t a choice), apathy won’t give you a voice, what they want you…
Fully present, I,
Taking in vibrations,
Eyes shine, mouth wrinkles.
Do I take this for granted? Am I really truly
present? Would I listen more if I knew, for a time
this is the last time, I would meet someone new?
Pressure heavy, people to feed.
Keep the mood light, wrestle with carts
filled high with lunches for hungry humans,
hearts wrested to a cause,
What times are these? When a body you love,
a community you hold dear feels pain
you draw near. Throw yourself
forward, and in, lift them high,
on weak arms but willing bones.
Flung from humanity.
Isolated, yes. But still there is connection…
not skin by skin, or hand on hand.
Voice by voice, screen by screen,
share by share, word by word.
And it brings life still…
Love and Listen well.
Take not for granted.
Tenuous thread moving through the eye of the needle meant for me. For the hole in my blue jeans, a small spot not as strong, more compressed, feeling the pressure so much more than the rest of her sisters, those fibers and threads woven tightly together til the weight was too great and a kneel gave way to a widening chasm torn asunder.
‘I can help you mend it’, come the gentle words from my mother. On my own I don’t quite know just how I’d sew it shut. Jeans must come off, wrenched inside-out. Deft strokes follow, back and forth: armed with courage, built up by love, kissed with kindness. Slowly the hole becomes smaller, before it disappears. But still it must be treated gently, more tenderly.
Sometimes the mind is like blue jeans.
The day that I realized I couldn’t remember how much student debt I was in, had no idea how much money was leaving my account each month for automatic bill payments, and whether or not I actually had enough money to stop and get that coffee before work…was the day I decided enough was enough, and sat down to take stock of my finances. These are a few steps that have helped me feel just a little more in control, a little more financially savvy, and even helped to make a little extra money. (***Disclaimer: I am not a financial…
The sun, it calms
and soothes my tender mind,
as I sit and soak
the rays into
Like a plant, I’m addicted,
to the photosynthesis,
all the premises
of my life bent
on one job:
Converting light energy
to chemical energy,
but with the sun.
Air fills lungs, as breath comes deep.
Sweet oxygen for a moment replacing my need for sleep.
Loud minds, louder than a thousand out-loud voices
condemning my choices in the day-to-day.
I feel. Hear nothing.
This is what Earth feels like: cool and wet,
letting my back sink into it, my hair unkempt.
Sloppy kiss of affirmation,
that all my fears and consternation matter not.
This is what Sun feels like: warm and wise,
placing a kiss on my tired eyes. ‘Be still’, she says…
just like her Maker.
A Giver, not a Taker.
Warm love, exposing light.
Here I lie.
On the Earth and in the Sun.
Still. Silent. Sigh.