Tag Archives: community

Maria ( /məˈraɪ.ə/)

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here is ancestors’ voice

rising upon the air

encircling

welcome home

allowance

I am

love not lost

preserved in breath

the fill

the unheard

ponders answered

here

now

definitions fall

I am

not to heal

not broken

no path is straight

just forward

nothing destroyed

merely changing form

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Itchy Heart

venom flying past my window
breeze keeping it aloft
seeking sunlight & warmth
broader view from inside
but
YOUR religion, MY god
MY party, YOUR politics
PC, not PC, name calling
what about respect?
what about kindness?
what about leadership?
fool hardy notion
once things were different
were they?
more than once we were a nation
were we?
now little empires
tiny, small
empires
minds
Itchy Heart


a resolution

long to be anonymous
lurking in shadows
unnoticed and naked
no title attached
alone, standing quiet
silent sentinel to life
a moment untainted

only a moment

no angle or viewpoint
surrounded by activity
sans desire and intent
baptized by awareness
sanctuary of solitude
replenishing to soul
learn to treasure all


Cooking With Cousins

i want you to remember
we spied santa on a hillside
our star sang ballads from
psychedelic radio lights
old men that were only
middle-aged crooned and
strummed, sat us on knees
we pelted each other in
crabapple wars when white
flowers fell leaving only fruit
gorgeous flying fruit that 
filled souls rather than bellies
the sting dimmed by laughter

i want you to remember
football in the side yard
where we didn’t let you win
each point you made was yours
holiday shows littered with song
we showcased you, center stage
because there is no resistance
for endless pools of brown eyes
willing innocent’s quiet voice
riding double, even triple on
stingrays, hoping not to fall
being called in to go home
pretending we had all gone deaf

i want you to remember
to let it soak overnight like
frijoles we cook in the morning
simmer like green chile that
brings sweat to brow, grin to face
pull the memories in close
hugged like husk to masa
know that these things, each
rounded us out like bunuelos
refined in the hottest oil
heritage stacked layer upon
layer melting like enchiladas
so our hearts would never know hunger


Tribal Fires

we sit in a circle

gathered in ceremony

an unlikely band of medicine women

maternal lineage of the silver iris

breaking bread, opening hearts pages

gathered as scholars, unknowing teachers

i feel a call to dance with elders

to sift fingers through unearthed treasures

travel to corners buried in paper sleeves

spinning crystals in the healing sun

quietly watching thoughts weave together

as steam rises off teacups like smoke

from a tribal fire


The Ladies

such a joy to see them at my door

sitting around my table

updating each other on

challenges and adventures

sharing intellect and insight

before we even crack the book


Insomnia Blessing

insomnia might be a gift

i wake and find myself wandering

lurking and dancing amongst words

words of soon to be popular writers

words of souls bearing secrets

words daring to float on tides

of anonymity, looking to be born

if one cannot rest and dream

how comforting to find

pieces of others to wrap

around my solitude

feeling the quiet

but not feeling alone