Every so often things come apart.
They just weren’t put together to hold.
So you pick up the pieces,
You discard that which didn’t hold together.
You reshape the design of the whole,
To include only those things you want to keep.
It’s a little scary.
But it’s also comforting,
When the things you wanted to hold together
Seem to now fit together better.
And amazingly, the new design seems to be one
That can grow, and stretch
Maybe this time without breaking.
Sweet juice of the grape,
Mask my sorrow,
Hide my pain.
Keep it from cutting a hole in my heart.
I will bleed, if it is on the surface.
I will writhe in pain on my floor.
Sweet juice of the grape,
Drown the voices in my head
and the ones on the phone.
Keep me from racing to him,
begging him to take me just one more time.
Into that place from which I find such great joy
And then such great sorrow.
Sweet juice of the grape
Be my friend.
Be my solace.
Help me find a place
Where his blue eyes will not torment me.
Where his smile will not lure me.
Where I won’t find false comfort in his hands.
Empty my mind of all the memories
Empty my mind of the dreams
Empty my heart, empty my eyes,
Empty all of it, sweet juice of the grape,
Let me forget, for just one night
How I loved him.
How I love him still.
Always……
The north wind blew yesterday.
Taking away the sun’s warmth.
Cold blustery fingers sneaking in my cracked open windows,
Inside my light summer jacket.
Reminding me why I love the warmth of summer.
Summer, when we can move unencumbered by layers and layers of clothes.
Summer when we can shift our lives outdoors,
Shift our love outside
Stargaze in the late night
With the one who occupies my mind.
Go away north wind, it’s not your season.
Let the balmy summer breeze fill the air
With the sweetness of wisteria, lilacs, roses on the trellis.
Let it fill my days and nights with easy loving
of what is.
This is one of my favorite poems. Written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. There is a book of the same name that accompanies it.
The Invitation
by Oriah
It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.
It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”
It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.
By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved
Summer breezes blowing in my windows.
My summer gauzy dress ruffles on the edge.
My hair lifts off my neck, and slides across it,
Like a soft caress of a lover’s hand
turning my head to meet his lips.
It’s warm, warm enough for the heat to raise tiny beads of sweat across my brow.
on my upper lip
Across my breast.
I smile
Thinking of the last time I had tiny beads of sweat raised.
In the heat of an afternoon that was fairly cool.
Sweet time, sweet sweet moments
Passing between us.
Sometimes I’m just such a basket case.
Strong backbone turns into marshmallow.
Self-talk becomes a whisper
Inaudible against the beating of a heart.
The heart speaks
Gently coaxes me on
toward it’s desire.
So easily I succumb.
At the end of the day
I’m not afraid, and I’m not sure.
I just am.
Posted on May 8, 2015 by learning to live like water
Sleep evades me.
Only longing finds me.
I turn on the prism light
That he gave me.
The soft warm glow
Reminds me of the way I feel in his arms
Curled like spoons, his hands cupping my breast.
Feeling his man parts pressing against me.
His breath on my neck.
Longing. Painful longing.
I don’t know where I stand with him.
Fear rises in both of us.
Again, he is afraid he will love me.
I am afraid he will not.
Tears fall and splash on the page.
God, could I not have it easy for once in my life??
Could I not just love someone who could love me back fearlessly, fiercely?
I’m so tired. Come sleep.
Put a blanket on my heart, cover my thoughts til the morning light.
Send me into the blissful emptiness of dreamless sleep.
I surrender. I cannot carry the burden of not knowing tonight.
Rescue me, sleep, from the endless nagging fear.
Be my friend. Love me, sleep, close my eyes, quiet my mind.
Sleep, sweet sleep, like the one I long for, where are you?
learningtolivelikewaterblog.com 
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