On Waking

image from google

sunlight through prisms

colors dance across the walls

room full of rainbows

Black Wolf of My Heart

Black and silver shadows

flit among the trees,

ears alert

for the sound 

of other creatures

in the bush,

tails plumed, arching

over supple backs:

Beauty.

And then

I see you:

black against 

your silver pack.

Your steps slow.

Your eyes meet mine.

Your head tilts back.

You sing

a mournful howl.

My eyes bless every 

moving muscle,

every hair,

from nose

to tip of tail.

I miss you,

yes,

it hurts,

but seeing you

brings joy

for, in those 

fleeting moments,

you live again.

Last night I was walking with my little friend Sebastian, and we met another boy walking his black dog, who looked like Pup, only smaller. The boy said she had been rescued from a pack of feral dogs living and breeding with the wolves on Meares Island. That made her one of Pup's relatives. I rescued him in the same way.

When we went back inside, there was a film about wolves on National Geographic. My heart lifted at the beauty of these glorious creatures moving across the screen. Mostly silver wolves....but some black. And one looked exactly like my boy, Pup. How the heart can feel joy and pain at the same time. How I still miss my guy.

Jagged Edges

At Poets United, the Vice-Versa prompt words are: 
jagged/smooth and lack/abundance. Good words.

Given time,

life

smoothes out

the jagged edges

of our hearts.

With experience,

every lack

we once

perceived

turns to

abundance.

Exile

I see dVerse has a theme of Exile......interesting.


She feels shunned by her community,
judged by people of closed minds
who do not understand 
the spaciousness of her outlook
and the flight of her spirit,
so accustomed are they
to keeping their eyes on the ground -
and on each other.


They do not see her radiance, 
how she shines,
or her compassion,
so generous,
or the fact that she is
living her truth
and being honest with herself,
and why should that bother them so much?
Why do they want
to keep her chained
to an anchor that can only 
drag her backwards
and underwater?


Secure in their little cliques,
they gossip about
a girl who never said
an unkind word
about any of them.


Her eyes look sad.
Her mother tells her
"It is their loss!
Find people whose spirits
want to soar, like yours,
and leave them
in your dust."


The girl has been
down this road
before.
There is no way to fit
a spacious mind
into  the confines
of a small box.
God knows, she tried.


Her mother wants
to nudge her off the branch,
is waiting to see her
soaring through the sky,
alive and free.


She knows it will happen.
Once one
has tasted flight,
there is no going back.


for Lisa

Type A Dream

My dreams would be
somebody else's nightmare.
In them, I am always
looking after multiple children,
all under the age of five,
including twin babies.
I am baking masses of things 
from scratch,
and the cat is giving birth to kittens,
(I dont even have a cat!)


Simultaneously,
I am running a laundry.
A load of whites simmers
in the big kettle 
over the open fire
(just to make this situation 
slightly more challenging -
no mod cons in MY dreams!)
and there is a cacophony of noise
to keep me rattled and distracted.


Then I wake up.


Thank God.

Waking becomes 
a dream.
Time for tea.
Make mine a double,
after such a busy night.

Opportunity

Poets United's prompt today is Opportunity. "When one door closes, another opens." Hmmm. I've had lots of closing doors, I can relate:) Check out the other poets, posting at Poets United. This topic is a great opportunity to read some good poems, hee hee.


When the door closes
so fast, it hits you on the bum
on the way out,
look around
and congratulate yourself
on this wonderful opportunity
to experience
turning down
an unexpected path.


There may be dragons,
but there might, also or instead,
be lovely maidens, handsome princes,
glorious adventures,
or, at the very least
a few devoted dogs
with loving eyes,
to make up for
what you missed
not going the other way. 

Bird of Joy

Poetry Jam's prompt this week is Celebration, and I can find no better example of it than this little fellow, who bops amazingly on the beat, and practically dances himself out of his feathers. Take a moment to celebrate the joy of being alive, along with him. He will make you smile. Then dance!

For Joy,

all there needs

to be

is music

and a

willing spirit.