The Red Leafed Tree

proud among the tall green
oaks, leads my eye upward
to the cathedral, the rounded
dome with windows to the sky,
now hazy before the day begins
its work.

These forests of the silent
retreat unlike the Ocala National
Forest full of bears and owls
who want you gone. I flee to
safer woods, those of my childhood,
timeless as the Buddha and
our forever souls.

I find solace from attacks of the heart,
cry loudly, weep softly until
the river runs dry. Emptied out,
I wonder what will refill my heart
and soul from within.

I cling to the red leafed tree as a sign:
be strong among the tall oaks,
they will protect you, surround
you with their uniqueness,
heal and comfort.

The Light of Innocence

The small white cat lay curled
up on the sofa, a bundle of love
and goodness, his innocence
not lost by neglect or abuse,
his light still shining for children
and neighbors, rolling over and
over on the sidewalk in glee
at the beautiful day and flowers
and nooks and crannies to explore.
Waiting for him are treats and food
and so much love, you can curl him
around him and he will only purr,
complete trust and surrender.

I will not feel that innocence again,
if I ever once did. That warm breast
of comfort was absent like the sun
on a day of pelting rain,
or an overcast night sky without
a twinkle of light. Where did my inner light
come from if not from God? I revel
in my newfound strength, my God-given
right to shine, say goodbye to false innocence
and welcome the reality that sometimes
there is dark.

Age, Pray, Mums

How long has it been since
I looked in a mirror and my face
was youthful and unwrinkled?
Was it years ago when
my poppy-red lips
puckered with radiant joy,
the mums in my backyard
bloomed brilliant colors?

I find the passage of time
unrelenting like growing weeds
after a spring rain. I pray
to find comfort in this aging face,
closer to seeing God in the mirror
than a slim figure.

I find that I frequently
ask for directions of a different kind,
seek help from the unseen,
let faith lead me from dark caves
of the mind. I let small gifts
brighten a rainy day,
hope that more joyful days
than not will grace this journey,
no matter how long.

Recovery from Narcissism

Today I bask in the knowledge
that in the future, you will
be a distant memory,
a memory of evil lurking
in the serenity of forests and trees,
lakes and sky. Today I know I will be
all right, that abundance will flow
as a karmic payment for the grief
I endured, friendships will be stronger,
my spiritual life will grow
to encompass the kindest
and most compassionate
on the planet, where God will glow
from every face, the sun will shine
on the less fortunate and summer
days will greet me every winter.
I will seek the highs of beauty
and soul, music and travel.
I will gladly help the children
learn and grow, and I will grow
stronger every day on the path to God.

The Passion of Queens

A whirling kaleidoscope
becomes like facets of
a diamond glittering
in the sun.
I seek true feeling
beneath the false smile,
the truth of our existence.
But first, give me
the twirling dance,
the passion of queens,
the freedom of a fit body,
the sun’s rays on my face,
Surround me with angels.

This Year

This was the year of trauma and illusion,
of new beginnings and abrupt endings.
This was the year of bears and owls,
curses and dark energy, of infidelity
and incest, lies and drowning
then reaching for light,

of betrayals and sinking in fear,
then rising out of the muck
to forgiveness. This was the year
of meditation to calm the mind
the year of yoga nidra every night,
of John Vosler at 3:00 am
and Tara Brach at 7:00.

This was the year of opposites:
Illusion and reality
Truth and lies
Justice and mercy
Fear and love

This was the year of blessings,
of finally knowing what is important.
This was the year of standing up to abuse of power,
This was the year of losses; a house,
a lover,
a community,
a town,
a school,
money and sometimes my mind.

This was the year of gain:

Friends,
lessons, sleepfulness,
more lessons,
gratitude, strength.
This was the year of coming home, to myself

Who I am

I am a small droplet of rain on the roof
I am blue water welling up from Florida Springs
I am a first drink of cold water on a Florida day
I am wind that roils the waves to overflow the beach
I am breeze that ripples the seas with calm
I am the drop of sweat and blood on a victim’s face.

Mariel