A Prayer For Healing

Into the compassionate womb of your Love, Oh God
I bring my deepest needs, my strongest hopes, my greatest fears.
Give me tears for my grief, a voice that I might cry out unto You.
Give me words, that I might say what is most in my heart.
Give me courage, that I might always seek the healing You have to give.
Let me always offer my suffering to you, so that if healing does not come,
wisdom, justice, and compassion maybe its fruit.
A life offered to You, Abba God.
Amentumblr_nx9k8eT4EU1uufoudo1_1280

In Mid-Air (Ode To Facebook)

Your words,
tossed off
trumpeted out
staccato,
running trills

like some
Miles Davis
of the trivial
not-thought-thru

remark

leave me
set on fire
and hanging

in mid-air

I Love Mama’s Hands

I love Mama’s Beautiful Hands
so dirty with me, with us.

I love that She is not distant from me
But draws close and plunges to muss

My hair, my heart, my head and my soul
She molds and She mushes and messes

And then She will wash me and clean me right up
And put pleats in my Lonely Tresses

“Wisdom cannot be imparted.
Wisdom that a wise man attempts to impart
always sounds like foolishness to someone else.
Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom.
One can find it, live it, do wonders through it,
but one cannot communicate and teach it.”
Hermann Hesse

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Waiting For The Winter Drums

Blood Red Sunsets smothered by the sea
Parting birds flying south in songs of sorrow
Deep sad hymns are birthed deep within me
sung by longing winds unto tomorrow…tumblr_nw9z5u6IqP1r2zs3eo1_500The hawk screams and jumps,
grabs clawfuls of fading blue sky,
rips them loose from the fabric
of the dimming day…and then
away…While the red alder sees and sheds tears
in gold showers of dry rustly leaves
that spin and sigh and softly sing
a falling lament, a longing ode
to summer past and gone…Image 001All is falling upon the cooling soil

waiting for the winter drums

waiting for the winter drums…c4738d643c7e7cbc5e7ddd6e4e7114c8

My Face Against Your Glass

The monolith of your decided thoughts
looms large in dreadfall shades and shadows stark
of lost judgments formed in historic fogs
and lacking light and love, short on comfort.tumblr_nvg1grSQMU1shqs68o1_1280

and I am shrieking-dwarfed in their shot gaze
unblinking, baleful red and white and black
for all those choices made back in lost days
in reactive guilt and in hidden shame
give recoil now to even the mere name
of who and what I am, what I am not.Image 001

and still I throw myself against those stones
those bastions large and looming, standing there
in granite ground into your heart and bones
that glass unbreakable that you have set
to look thru, thinking seeing is the same
as being, but it’s not, not even close.tumblr_nvznykpXfz1sii7h0o1_1280because you cannot touch me…no…not quite
…you will not touch me, that’s it, you will not
then I am naught…and my face…ohhh my face

my face against your glass red, blue and white

red and blue and white and I can’t get a breath

my face against your glass, your glass my death

Frozen White In An Instant

I froze white
in an instant
just a glance
just seeing
everything

except me, eyes
bouncing here there
everywhere

except me, fingers
draping, dragging
dancing around

edges, middles,
dabbling in puddles
and oceans, seas,

except me
black hole
in the middle
of your
universe

A Morning Phase

It’s a Morning Phase I’m in here,
walking in fogs and mists
thru familiar places long past
and gone but glimmering…

hinting,
haunting,
high above
in shrouded skies
wrapped in what?

Funereal splendour?
Swaddling clothes?
I can’t tell which
but then again
does it really
matter?tumblr_nx3vvj8fiS1simprco1_400They signify
the same.
And I pass
along the path
tumblr_nv9g3546sE1sfm44so1_1280dirt crunching
scrunching under
my trodding feet,
my padding feet
my tramping feet

looking for home

it’s a
Morning
Phase
I’m
in.
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A Song For Autumn Without Music

Could I leave the bright waves
and take to the blue skies?
Could I leave my cold skin
and sail into your eyes?

Is the moon high above
just reflecting to me
all the love that you hold
in your heart?

If the leaves on the trees
can turn red, yellow, gold
why can’t I find a heart
that will tenderly hold

my body, my spirit,
my mind and my soul
while the tale of my true
love is told?

Mount up!  Mount up!
Take courage on the wind!
Lift the hands of your sails on the waters!

Rise up!  Rise up!
Leave the surface behind and let the bow of your ship
carve the clouds on your way!

I will sail all the seas
I will follow the stars
I will listen behind the beauty
beyond what mars

And someday I shall come
to my sea-harbour home
I will finally rest
deep in you.

Yes I will finally rest
deep in you.

UNDONE

Reblogging a poem by one of my favorite poets…this is truly breath-taking!!

Melissa Shaw-Smith's avatarMelissa Shaw-Smith

IMG_2557She was undone by small things
a lost button, a missed call, stale bread.
Her ribs could only expand to take in so much air
Guilt was a wolf’s shadow haunting
the end of her bed at night.
To darn a frayed patch gave her some satisfaction—
a wound remade with stout thread.
For brief moments she could make the world
stand still, cup water in her hands and watch
the pink light slipping through her fingers.
The veil was pulled back
skin against skin, moments so intense
tears burst from her eyes making her
laugh with joy and surprise.

View original post

It Feels Weird To Me

…like Grace Notes has become
an echo chamber and I am
speaking only to myself…

no matter…
I am liking my poetry,
and that pleases me.
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To Skim Thru Night With Me

I skim quick thru the darkling night
I skinny along those fissures deep
and rough faults in thick dark.

The sable satin curtain parts
and I slide thru, slide thru alone
and hot with dark-fire smoke.

My eyes flash flash light to light
and gleam within the velvet night
and promise there’s an end.

But you must strip off layers, yes
you must there disrobe complete
and scrub away the past

to skim thru night with me right here,
to skim thru night with me.

Evangelicalism, You Have Traumatized Me. – The Gay Post-Evangical

Source: Evangelicalism, You Have Traumatized Me. – The Gay Post-Evangical

I am pressing this post…it is by way of confession for me.  I have done these things to people back in the old days…mostly in the early 90s, and my thinking well on the path of evolving and transforming by the late 90s…but I did them.

Said them.

Thanks be to our God of Love and Grace that They opened the eyes of my heart.

Someone I love deeply recently told me that they will never forgive me for those things said then…no matter that they ignore so much else.  They told me that I was not allowed to change my mind or views and that they would despise me forever if I tried to “claim” a road to Damascus experience and now “get off scot-free”.  They were cruel, intentionally so, and consigned me to their dungeon of never having status as a free person ever again.

Well…that was tough to read, and the choices that they make do not dictate my future nor deny me the grace of growing and changing and evolving.

But even if I spent my whole life in their dungeon, it would not make “right” the things I said and lived in those times…I truly thought I was saying and doing the right thing.

I was wrong.

In the spirit of forgetting what lies behind and pressing onward to the glory of God in Christ, I am rejoicing that I still have some years to help the ones in my life now who I have the chance to show grace to.

May any who read this who have been wounded and othered by the likes of such as I once was find healing in my confession…and may the ones who say they will never forgive quickly find opportunity to change their own views…it will broaden their forgiveness qualifications most helpfully, and empower them to forgive themselves.

 

Heart And Henna

Mark my heart with loving henna
not with needle-inky hate
let me feel your brush-sienna
early, lasting, long and late

Worry not that it will fade
victim of time’s ceaseless flow.
I am inside, tender-laid
and marked by your faithful brush blow.

Ever shall your marks on me
Bind my soft heart to your own
So mark me love, with glyphs made free
Heart of hearts, Bone of Bone.

I Wear Your Blood With Honor

i gladly lay beneath you
i wear your blood with honor
it glistens on my white skin
like moonlight on the water

just lay me down here easy
and let your choice flow o’er me
i wear your blood with honor
like scars of precious battles

and every drop, it burns me
tattoos and marks forever
i wear your blood with honor
and ever me your banner

upon the leaping windsong
i wear your blood with honor
upon my face, my soft skin
i wear your blood like medals

And I Think Of You

i pull on
my stockings
soft and black
and i think of you

in the evening
i sit by the fire while
the teakettle sings
and i think of you

i pull up
my covers over
my sleepless visions
while the stars shimmer
shaking behind rainy cloudweeps
and i think of you.

i pull on
my silk blouse
it’s yellow and blue
and i wonder if i’ll
ever be good enough
and i think of you.

i have so much
to give you
meadows of emerald
skies of pure opal
red heart so true
soul of soft pink

and my
thoughts are just you
thoughts are still you
and i think of you
and i think of you

Thinking About Nothing

A man must dream
a long time in order
to act with grandeur…
and dreaming is
nursed in darkness.
Jean Genet

*****     *****     *****     *****     *****

and women?
dreams?
what are dreams to women?
who work while it is day
and watch in darkest night
o’er all the sleeping dreamers
and their slumbering sight…

and what about me?
I, who sit and think
in the night’s
encompassing embrace.

I do not dream of grandeur
but watch in nights of dark
and I think about nothing
that thing impossible
distinguished from what is
and thus having being
in what it never is
and never can become…

I think about nothing.tumblr_nwqho2tUVz1qas1mto5_1280

Twining Ice And Fire

the ice is silent.
silent and perfect.
silent and perfect and blinding.

the silent
perfect blinding
ice.

the fire sings
sings and dances
sings and dances and sees
beyond

the singing
dancing seeing
flame.

see them twine
ice lacing flame
flame licking ice
heating and cooling
drips in drops
of unity.

i promise you
my love
though ice
ascendant rules the day
fire will win
in The Day

and thawing come
and passion rule
and only water
here remainingtumblr_nwhbu9NI2h1uvd0n3o1_1280

And I Fortunate One…

…I have lived into this…thank you dearest one.

“I want to fall to sleep with you,
and I could care less
whether it is in
layers upon layers
of clothing
or only our skin –
all I really want is to wake up
not knowing
where I end and you begin.”
– Beau Taplintumblr_nq1k58RjOn1ri8ligo1_500

In The Waves

If I should walk into the sea
and find a bed soft, sandy-wet,
and there lay down, there, lay down me
would you reach out with your heart-net?

I’d lay aside my evening gown
of gossamer and pure moon beams
and let my feet find pathways down
beneath the waves to swaying dreams

that shimmer thru the quiet deep
and beckon me with promise made
If I lay there still, would you keep
my heart inside, every debt paid?

We share a bed upon the land
and swim there in the waves of night
Ah, but in that bed beyond the sands
Will you there be my sweet delight?tumblr_nmyqh44LgX1qat5pio1_500

Me My Entire Life

“I realized that I walk briskly because I feel that if I look very busy and send the message
that I have a very important reason for being in this space, perhaps men around me will think
I have a right to go on my way un-harassed, untouched, un-bothered.

“To be a woman in public is to be on your guard, all the time.”
— Yusra Amjad, Why do women walk so briskly in public?tumblr_ntc9hulZCP1qas1mto2_1280

Jack-O-Lantern Of Hearts

When I got home that night,
I noticed the smiling jack-o-lantern
in my front yard was crushed.

No October Orthodontist could
ever repair that ruptured smile
so crooked at its best, and simply broken, now.

I thought about our last talk,
jack-o-boots flying over hob-nail heart
and guttery scuttery candle-hopes flicker-fade

over cooling coffees neglected in the heat
of the moment, where carving knives were wielded
underneath the punkin-spice latte scents, and those blades

sent us reeling like Cinderellas at midnight
our heart-mice flying from Ichabod and his boots
and those words which left us out front, crushed.

***This was written to a poetry prompt…the first stanza***

Samhain Eve by Laurie Byro | Melissa Shaw-Smith

Source: Samhain Eve by Laurie Byro | Melissa Shaw-Smith

This poem is mind-blowing.
I am reeling in its double-back and dream parallels…
what is dream what is awake what is mental what is result
of so called treatment what is what is what is

samhain eve

You won’t want to…dig deep.
But you should.

It’s that good.

Cold Comfort

This quote…

“Your worth
is determined by you,
and with no need for
an explanation to anyone.”
Wayne W. Dyer

Here is the problem for the person who struggles with self-worth issues:

If you see yourself as unworthy and worthless, then you are doomed.  And I have heard it more times than you can imagine…”well just see yourself as worthy and you will be”!

That works as well as the last time I saw myself as a billionaire
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This Water, Cloudy

No…the water
is not dirty
or polluted or
even stagnant.

It’s just cloudy,
this water, cloudy.

It was clear and warm,
luxuriant and lazy
but quick-like, to pull you
in and then lay you
down easy and gentle
and snug.

But you
never came in
so my desire,
that unknown
cloud unknowing
leaked out,
just trickled away
around me

until the pool
was cloudy
and thick
with my
longing want.

 

But You Won’t Even Know…

…because you are blocked!  Giggles!

“Cancer will block you as a Facebook friend, immediately cross you off
their Christmas card list and then assign a ringtone to your name so that
if you call, they can ignore your call AND get the satisfaction of ignoring it!
All this followed by a hasty retreat into their shell to sulk because
that’s where crabs go to nurture their hurt feelings.”
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Before The Icicles Fell

they were caught here, frozen
before the icicles fell
before the snows all melted
before the laughter faded
before the tears unfolded
before the digger shoveled
before death walked unfettered

they thought this moment
would last forever again
and over again,

and sitting here
i cannot tell
if I am the snowball
or the thrower
or the moment
hanging in static
time stood still

My Unpicked Branches

It’s the season of harvest and fruit,
the culmination of that brown sweat
shed in summer-shimmer sheets
and red-hot ribbons that somehow
twine around roots and snake up
trunks and push out thru branches
in the swollen tender tips of twigs
become blossoms become
fruit…ripe…heavy.

The real mystery to me
is why nobody picks these
crimson circles crisp and crunchy?
Why I stand here full and verdant
fragrant and feeling fine,
and not an apple plucked or pulled?

I cannot pick myself.
I cannot harvest that which
is perpetually out of my reach
but is only one ladder away
from anybody who hungered
for those apples bobbing
on the swaying branches.

But I am used to that, being
a feast for birds and bugs
and winter worms in the cold,
a fermenting hearth in a frosty night
under the stars so bright
and dancing and the wind
still caressing my unpicked branches.

 

Spectacle

those marks,
a series of slashes
joining a smatter
of dots and blobs
and curves arcing
across regimented
lines fixed in space
and speaking of
time and tone

indecipherable to
the common eye
and singing
of sublimity
in a master’s mind
and playable only
by those filled
with the desire
of the ages

On Seas So Grey

What’s it like, on the grey seas
in the silver wind, with sails
so green and full and billowing?

Skimming swift and dangerous, light
on the waters while the crew scrambles
‘neath that Captain loud and bellowing?

Stinging spray by facefuls founting
up from waves slosh-frothing, faithful
and fateful leading cross the edge

to horizons promising much more
of the same and something different,
something different, too.

Omg The Beauty

In autumn the evenings,
when the glittering sun sinks
close to the edge of the hills
and the crows fly
back to their nests
in threes and fours and twos;
more charming still
is a file of wild geese,
like specks in the distant sky.
When the sun has set,
one’s heart is moved
by the sound of the wind
and the hum of insects.
Sei Shōnagon, “The Pillow Book”

tumblr_nvgifqwNnO1tqzd96o1_500 

Why Twitter’s Dying (And What You Can Learn From It) — Bad Words — Medium

But the issue of abuse is more subtle — more invisible — and more than all the above.

Abuse does not arise in a vacuum. A healthy mind does not (need to) abuse. Abuse is created of trauma, and it is the traumatized mind which abuses. Whether to externalize, bury, escape its anger and frustration — the abused mind must purge it’s hurt in some manner, or risk being broken, split apart by it entirely.

But the troubling fact is this.

We have created an abusive society. We have normalized, regularized, and routinized abuse. We are abused at work, by the very rules, norms, and expectations of our jobs, at which we are merely “human resources”, to be utilized, allocated, depleted. We are abused at play, by industries that seek to prey on our innocence and literally “target” our human weaknesses.

And now we are abused at arm’s length, through the lightwaves, by people we will never meet, for things we have barely even said. We live in a society where school shootings are the rule, not the exception, where more people will have taken antidepressants than not…and now one where nearly everyone will have been abused on the web…for a random, off-hand, throwaway comment, an idle thought, something trivial, unremarkable, meaningless.

Source: Why Twitter’s Dying (And What You Can Learn From It) — Bad Words — Medium

I wanted to press that quote, pulled from a longer article that is fantastic in describing what happens on social media…

…and online in general.

The web is one gigantic megaphone, and one person with a point of view and a platform can do incredible damage to any number of other people with what they write and how they write it.

I myself have experienced this…where an article was written about me, about the most private and personal and painful things in my life and placed on display in the service of a personal point of view.

I didn’t recognize the person that appeared in the article, even while I remembered the things alluded to…and remembered the rich tapestry that surrounded them all…a tapestry comprised of the things that happened and the things I remember and the interpretation that is placed on them by so many players in the tableau…

I was horrified as I read the comments on the article by complete and utter strangers who had now decided that I was a certain way or a certain thing, simply based on these words made public, and while those words are utterly authentic as a representation of the thoughts and judgements of the writer they were abysmally inadequate in giving any genuine insight into the gestalt of the history that had been lived.

I was despairing…thinking of how the place of publication did Zero due diligence in fact checking or vetting or even giving me the common courtesy of a warning that they were going to take a small facet, one side of a terribly complicated issue and wave it in the air like a besotted banner of click-bait and titillation.

I couldn’t help but imagine the consequences should this have happened to any other number of people I know in my situation, and the yawn and blind eye turned to just another transgender suicide…

And more than anything else?  I knew that deep down inside I would have done nothing to stop the writing from happening because of the writer’s need to tell the story and tell it the way those eyes, that heart and brain lived it.

The issue is not the telling of the story…the issue is the megaphone and how it is choking itself on its own abusive streams. 

Contemplate the things this author points out, and consider your own interactions with social media…and know that there is a better way.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly.
Charissatumblr_nsonrvhzRA1qesboko1_1280

The Third Path – Poems & Poèmes

©F.G.M. – 2015

Source: The Third Path – Poems & Poèmes

I simply have to press this.

My brother in Poetry is amazing…and he is right.

And if you have no idea what he is talking about?  Move along, move along, nothing happening here…

Grace Upon Grace

open me to new ways
of looking at old wounds
without examining them.

give me grace to recreate
loving space and mercy great
for childhood, home and family.

nourish me, here, I belong
and have a place to call my home
me…I am my home now…and so is She.tumblr_nlr3sqnQ9Z1u3p11io1_1280and old familiar fretty ways
so curious and strange
may they grow cold with un-use.

no more shall I be trapped
in ancient fear and panic
a creature of their whims

but asking Them to help,
to break that siege on me
and lend Their power pure.

I know now,
there is another way,
kinder, gentler, simpler.
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Morning Meditations

When you lose the rest of everything
and the curb merges with the gutter,
wander on down the grey road
in the weak darkness, thin and sorry
for its skinny powers.

Like you, it has been stripped
and hollowed out by pillars
of strange orange man-made lights
that pulse to rhythms eldritch
and out of whack.

Turn left at the golden arches
and meander downhill toward
that weedy field of thistles and look
beneath its frosty veil for the path, no…
the part traversing that bristly mane
low and lurking deep in the foot
of the silent graveyard speaking so insistent
of what it cannot say.untitled_by_beyondimpression-d86j5snHead to the pylon, pushing thru the wild roses
and brambles and you can find me, sleeping and still,
swathed in brilliant reds that have been infected with
the sicknesses of too much and too little.

Cast-off Goodwill wannabes swaddle me
in the mangy light so far away from even
Bethlehem let alone a stable, and I struggle
to stay beneath the thready stream of thin sleep
doled out to me like penitentiary-gruel
to dulled-out dwellers in the dimness
that masquerades as just desserts deep-deserved.

Feel that moist air clinging to your cheeks
like my fingers used to cling to those faces
cherubic and innocent and unaware of the plague
awaiting outside the place we all used to live.tumblr_nvjxog2KC61u9koqpo1_1280Smell that rank faint scent that lives only
at the foot of graveyards and only creeps
out in the dead of night…and take a deep breath,
for that breath is your inheritance now, in this
long first night in the fake wilds beneath
the petty-coats of this town but no longer with
a place to call home, or even a cover to keep out
the creeping dread of realization that this will happen

over and over and over and over and over and…tumblr_n6myj3d0Re1s2fme1o1_r2_500

you can curl up behind me and we can spoon and
maybe our touch will lure the moon over
the crouched hump of the bridge that sings once
in a while with the passing of scrabbling
metal beasts scurrying thru this place
on the way to nowhere.

Or if that small comfort is too slow and uncertain,
trek across the creek and look under the bridge
by the trestle beams so dark and still and
certain of their strength.

They sweat in cold beads
and if you stick out your tongue
you can trap a few drops there and here
that will cool your ravaged hot throat torn
with such thirsty longing for what used to be…

and if you stick out your arm, well then
swift flows the river current for those
who would brave the rapids and ravages
of those waters.

But then again, you may as well
take the shortcut, up the twisty hill
and lay down amidst the still stone angels
and the lumpy skeletal headboards
amidst the sighing dead awaiting
for the Rising Morning…

I live here now, in this red infected light
of lone loss and dewy violet memory and
I’ve learned to thrive off things despised,
I’ve learned to sift the dregs and love
the cast-off lees and living here
wrapped so warm in Autumn Leaves
and with The Least of These…

I think I prefer authentic life even
in light somewhat diseased rather
than the full on blind brilliance
of that time past asleep in true light
but wasted light streaming on by
while my eyes were shut and sealed
and my heart full of things I knew
that just weren’t so.

Wander on
down the grey road,
for I am waiting
here.tumblr_nvl3hgGvBu1ty8kogo1_1280