I am a half-moon,
a Medusa.
I am half-beauty, half-terror.
half-shining, half-dark,
half-quiet,
half-screams.
But like the moon,
I hold
both halves.
I see the sunshine
beside the snakes
and find my wholeness
through patience
with halves.
How Did I Forget?
Sometimes I forget
as I scribble grades,
push a tired vacuum,
that she watches.
I scrawl a grade
across my phone,
only happen
to look down.
Two round eyes
watch patiently.
Two round cheeks
wiggle
as she sucks milk.
The phone clacks
to the table.
How did I
forget?
White Space
Some balance
rock
upon
rock.
But rocks are not always on hand
when the baby cries,
when the dishes break,
when the heart bruises
black.
But
breath
is.
The white space
of the mind
can stack
breath
upon breath
upon
breath.
The Source
Where do I source my confidence? In my words or in my soul? One tends to be more stable than the other. Spring your words from your soul, rather than the other way around.
One Lovely
Sometimes mindfulness is simply choosing to recognize one lovely thing. Too often our mind defaults to recognize only the imperfect, the irritating, the fail.
But just one lovely thing can open your eyes back to reality.
Middles
There is a comfort to being in the middle of the journey. It’s like traveling through a dungeon, before reaching the boss. You meet people, make triumphs, find equipment–and without these, you would fail the final boss. Middles are what make us triumph at the end.
Stagnation
Stagnation is frightening: A messy pile that’s dug claws into your table. A perpetual sense of being late. A sigh every night as you review all the wrong things you said.
But stagnation relies on lack of movement.
Move. Something.
Your life can flow.
Contemplate
Contemplate your bowl. What offering are you giving your stomach? How will it thread into your veins? What will it do to nourish?
Now, contemplate your phone. What offering are you giving your mind? How will it thread into your synapses? What will it do to nourish?
Sleepless
Plushness of baby held to my chest
Smell of milk, wet and dry, soaked into breath, clothes.
She wails, sick, sleepless.
Her needs weigh against my wants
struggle
scrape…
Then, in friction, ignite.
Motherhood flames
Heart burns clear
I steady the babe against my soul.
Examine
Examine anger with light fingers. If you take it as your weapon, it will destroy more than you expect. But if you take it as your clue, you will heal more than you could have hoped.
Luminous Editing 