She walks,
She walks with a little leap in her step,
The leap is in her right leg, not her left.
So every right step she takes
She does with a little leap
a leap of trust, a leap of joy.
Some call it a disability,
Her special ability to
leap with every right step.
But she can walk,
walk with a leap in the
rightness of her step.
Every time she takes a right step,
her heart bounces up in bliss
accompanied by a little gasp,
of effort, of delight, of pleasure
rippling through her muscles
in the rightness of her step,
in the Truth of her Being.
that little girl
hides in the corner
hoping nobody notices
her plight and her shame
that little girl
turns invisible
to protect herself
and erase her pain
that little girl
cannot say what she feels
or what she thinks
for no one cares to hear her tale
that little girl
cannot complain or confide
for no one believes her
or takes her side
that little girl
has been a stranger to her past
disowning a part of herself
that disgusted her so
though she was not to blame
she was not to know
the fear nay her terror
held her hostage
and made her an accomplice
to the keeping of the sordid secret
exactly what happened and how
is blocked from her mind
though she is certain it was
her dad and his older brother
who subjugated her will to theirs
by the use of force and might
to satiate their salacious lust
or was it just a power dynamic
they laughed derisively
at her trust and innocence
their perversion had won
trampled over a little bud
that little girl
felt betrayed
on so many levels
that little girl
knows it was wrong
to be victimized for
their inappropriate desire
that little girl
could not sing her song
for they threatened her with death
though not her own
that little girl
felt powerless to defend herself
that little girl
felt helpless and hopeless
for her oppressors
were the very ones, who ought to have
been her protectors
that little girl
felt scared
that somehow it was all her fault
that little girl
felt guilty
that if someone found out
she would be blamed
that little girl
felt lost and confused
in that unsafe world
where nothing was at it seemed
or ought to have been
that little girl
was mad
she was fucking raging mad
at her mom and at her dad
at her whole family and clan
for at some level they all knew
yet no one rescued her
no one saved her
no one stood up for her
that little girl
was furious
her fury a rolled up ball
sitting in her belly
that little girl
could explode
any minute now
spill out her guts
and spill out all the dirty little dark secrets
she was made to carry
but wait
that little girl
does not do that
instead she implodes
she swallows it whole
turning it into a black hole
a place of nothing
of no feeling, no sensing, no memory
nothing happened, no one died,
no one had to be buried
no one cried
mom and dad are safe now
uncle and aunt at a distance
everything is as it should be
(on the surface at least)
except she can no longer love them
unconditionally
the implosion
causes a crack in her body
ever so slight and subtle
that sits by the sacral curve
and holds her unconscious distrust of the world
that little girl
has grown up now
and she can write a poem
sing her song
tell her tale
that little girl
has matured enough
to work through her pain
and her myriad feelings
to come to a place of forgiveness
that little girl
is fearless
is free of guilt, shame and/or blame
is a pure, clean, clear, innocent girl
that little girl
opens her heart with love
voices her truth with compassion
and sees others as mirrors of her Self
A husband and wife
Have it all very nice
A house with a view
A garden, a stew
They play and they gambol l
They sing and they sink
Into the quagmire of emotions
they never leave behind .
A husband and wife
Have it all very fine
Yet they wonder
and they ponder
what would make
it all worthwhile?
A husband and wife
Have it all it would seem
Yet the distances betwixt them
Do often intervene
And the longed for intimacy
Is somewhere out at sea
Where the angels step in to heal
as the demons come clean .
A washing of the soul l
Can bring that joy about
That calls with the fervent cry of
The cuckoo
and the peacock in a cloud .
May all your dreams turn lucid
And all fantasy abound
with the clarity of truth seeking
A homecoming
of ye to y'rself
aloud. .
In the hour of darkness,
the night is long and king,
no beacons show the way,
the promise of morrow's daybreak is thin,
all is pitch and black,
moroseness rides high,
the hope of light, of white - only an abstraction in the mind.
In the hour of darkness
we writhe and cry for a respite
or blind our eyes with unshed tears,
we cringe, we hide in fear
and shut our eyes to ourselves and others.
we refuse to recognize our fates
morbidity grips us, yet we struggle and fight
anything but surrender to the evil might.
In the hour of darkness
we tire, we take a break from the relentless turmoil,
we rest our burden of guilt and shame
of anger against injustice, wrath against rage,
our overworked shoulders slump
and let slide the control in our fatigue;
And lo, the light shines from within,
the glow without awakens other slumbering souls,
and rouses the self to step out
of the shadows of the ego
the new day breaks unannounced
My Krishna is blue
I played Holi with Gopala
And now my hair is blue
Having taken on his hue
Deep in the night
The blue seeps through
And dyes my thoughts
Churning ‘em into Love
The cobwebs of ol' patterns
Get washed by the
Sweet sound of his flute song
Waking me from Maya's dream.

image courtesy: themoonschool.org