purifying

What is it that cleanses our psyche

the way a long, hot shower

washes away the sweat from a hard run?

Sometimes it's a good cry

or months of crying

that washes away the residue left behind

from one experience to the next.

Some people shop,

shedding last year's skin

for the fashions of a new day.

Me, I move.

I pack it all up into boxes and put it away again

into new cupboards and closets and shelves,

touching each of the objects in my life,

one at a time,

deciding whether to keep it

and if so, where does it go now?

Transferring the dust

gathered from one chapter of my life

into the next,

watching it wash down the sink

in little gray drops

every time I wash my hands.

fall

it's fall. i was talking to a friend tonight briefly about what we both love about fall, why we love it. right now, fall in santa barbara means a shift in the weather, a cooler crispness to the air, some leaves (not many) on the ground, and today, rain. not heavy rain, but rain.

i know it's fall because i hear the wind. i hear damp leaves being blown around in the cold night air outside my door. in the air, i smell the plants giving over to the change of seasons. leaves falling, rotting, becoming earth. i sense the trees going dormant, the gardens shriveling up, the ground getting fallow and sleepy, ready for winter. i pile another blanket on the bed, close the windows i have had open all summer, and i feel the dread in me of longer nights, less sunlight. i feel myself shrinking inward, wanting to get into the warmth of hearth and home, out of the darkness and cold.

fall is about going inside, turning inward. i love this and need it on a deep level, though at the same time, i grieve the loss of the light and time outdoors, face turned upward, heart turned outward. now is time to reflect, recharge, and hibernate, later to emerge into the glorious sunlight once more.

who would've thought? a poem for my mother

giver of life, mother.
you are such a mystery to me.
little do I understand about you.
your inner workings
confound me.
your sense of spirit
eludes me.
your passions & priorities
completely pass me by.

but here, now,
in this moment of motherhood,
somewhere in the distance,
I hear you,
and I know you understand.

giver of life, I
now give back.

written sometime in the summer of 2002,
belly full of baby, head full of reflection

i have not slept

you crawl through space and time
to reach me
moving slow enough for
fate to catch you.

invisible to swords and samurai
untouchable by wands and wizards
stopping the movement of planets
long enough to grasp my hand.

did i dream it all one glorious night?
through midnight blues and scarlet reds,
through jade and tourmaline,
through bone and skin,
bringing together air and water
in a brilliant cascade of color,
exploding in the night.

did it wake you too?

i have not slept one night since
the visions keep me dancing
all night through.

7/14/02