Lunation

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Make good with your ghosts.
Dance the illumination
with the archer

and her flaming arrow,
aimed straight for the heart
of everything that glows.
The cosmic trickster falls often,
but laughs

as her blood hits the concrete,

lighting up the flowers

who grow through the cracks,
painting the unsung map
on sidewalks of lifetimes
stretched across galaxies.

Ascent doesn’t know itself without descent.

The fear-grief of winter

kisses springtime’s hope-lush petals

and webs of light hold hands
with black holes.

It’s all here.
Still golden robes drape
the backs of the ancients
who call us in,

inspiring remembering

by forgetting what we think we know.

Once spinning in
mechanical precision,
we find the guts
to tilt out of orbit.
We are not the cardboard cut outs

of the “worst thing we ever did.”
Our silhouettes extend infinitely,
our flesh the expression
of the desire to
stand our ground in mid air
and finally jump.

Wings find their way open—

its what they do.

The Way Love Would Have It

Calling ourselves beloved, may we move the way love would have us move.

May we move the way the sacred heart, keeper of holy fire, would have us move. The indefatigable dance, dissolving and restructuring, untangling and re-weaving, connecting pin points of light across the vast darkness to create new constellations from the inside out.

May we move the way our soft, wild underbellies would have us move, heavy-laden, eyes glowing, slow, and low to the ground. The unbearable ache of unnameable feelings rushing through us, beautiful rumblings that seek to change us entirely while having us touch that which always remains.

May we move the way the threads of our divine would have us move, a playful wind through the highest leaves, offering the possibility of re-imagining, infinite variations, & adventures through freshly revealed passageways. The way we remember, the way love would have us remember.

May we know the relief of lightening the burden of silence, of spilling the heart across a morning-lit table or an evening-darkened doorway. How surrender becomes the realest thing. How we laugh at how tightly we held on, as if love would escape us.

May we know each day a steady-handed choosing, even in the quivering aliveness of connection and reflection, of letting go of all expectations, perfect pictures and preconceptions, so we can fully & completely have it…the way love would have us have it.