Sacred – A Thread You Follow

The perhaps grows

Not like sunflowers in an empty field
with great, golden heads turned to the light.
More like the gathering of geese
along the shore of a forgotten creek.
Noisome, honking and cackling.
So many poets have answered that call,
rejoicing in the sounds of Mother Nature.
The voices of the ones who have gone before us
echo in the canyons made by dried up streams.
Perhaps if we wait until the mixing is done
we will find friends previously unknown
coming towards us, not with arms outstretched,
but with steps of sacred recognition,
yearning to be held and to hold.

We Are Wine

"We were water and now we are changed into wine!"
we cried two thousand years ago.  Where has our cry
gone?  The lip of the cup circles and circles forever
into infinity; surely there is enough room for a thousand
lips and more to drink the drink of life well into the evening.
Demons do not need to appear each and every time
we dare to come to the table.  And all waiting will cease
as we bring the chalice to our mouths and allow the 
juice of forever to wet our tongues.  This is our prayer,
we pray.  To be drenched in the love of one another.

what stretches to be found

redemption through creation
bending without breaking

a clay figure enlivens
to be examined
as reins slowly drape
upon body and soul
played by those who
believe beauty lies
in the beholden

the push of desire
mirrors the pull of the same

sacrifices of being lifted
along the safest journey 
to the temple where curtains
of many colors hang covering
the path in rich likelihood
and voices divide the fires
making all searches sense
what stretches to be found

Sacred Salt

     "Sacred salt sparkles on our bodies." - Denise Levertov

Not the salt found in blood, semen, tears or mucus,
dried from wounds or sickness or deprivation
but the salt that Jesus asks us to be, Be the salt of the earth.
To be sprinkled and spread, lightly, ocean spray settling
on barren and untouched skin, to sparkle on bodies
who cry out to be flavored with delights and to be tasted
while shouting joy to the heavens acclaiming, I am alive!

chattered mouths
breathing birdsong
participate in 
g*d's world
offering 
new narratives
with ancient
composure

questions
where are we
what's next
why normal
fall like song
into lament
stories grieved 
long ago

new chapters
pass with 
each new era
becoming 
the next 
burst bubble 
making sacred
ordinary