Into the Wilds

I began to dream under

the same raw moon

As the tides that bare down

on fragile flesh

the flesh of my forefathers

There’s blood in the apex

of these stones, calling us

to stitch the wounds

of our own callousness and

fleeting desires

 

I wandered into the wilds,

under sand pine prophets

and oaken kings

I lamented on the nature of our

odorous civilisations, our war machines

and dogmas of oppression

 

The egret and ibis heard my prayer

and came to see

the stranger in their midst

A creature of sorrow and

sickness and greed

But I wandered aloud,

my footsteps bringing me

to piles of rubble that once stood

the test of time

and time is now mine

under the stars of my

newfound fortitude,

this reckless keen edge

of awareness budding to life

inside my sleeping bones

 

I was wary once of travellers

of that forgotten golden realm

Longing to hide in the shadows,

a conscious observer

of the night flights of those fighters

The fighters wringing the life out

of the pockets of creation

 

And I stood there watching

while the memories came

to dance about my head

Spiders spinning webs in my hair

to trickle thoughts of liberation

into my brain

 

I thought once of you,

the way your eyes would move

to judge the very fabric that

weaves our flaws together

I set that memory free

and again turned

to the wilds that so

lovingly called me home

 

I followed a deer growing thick

with fetus in her belly,

asked after the hymns

that so wind their way around

and through

beast and tree,

and she told me to listen

 

So I listened to the gathering dusk,

the crickets’ music

transforming my soul

and then I was no longer afraid

of growing old

so I climbed into the crook

of a giant’s sheltering limbs

and I ate nothing but

what I could catch in

trembling hands

 

I sacrificed my self into

the hunt for this wealth

This need to resurrect

what once was a feral heart

I stopped playing prey and

found sanctuary

in the blood of the earth

the blood of reptile skin

and spear pointed teeth

as I became a solitary predator

 

I dug into the midnight soil

seeking a space to sink my roots

to wait and trap any form

any trace of food for my thoughts

I wanted to grow wisdom

I wanted to relearn that

Mother tongue of soil

Muscle and memory

the language of the land’s

savage composition

 

I wandered the forest,

aching to be found among the palmettos

a dying breed of mystic

planting seeds and craving

all things that a human craves

when burning that all to

cinders and ash

 

I buried myself in the darkness

among cypress knees and Spanish moss

Letting nightcrawlers sing me to sleep

I wondered then what it would mean

if I chose to stay

if I chose to let myself forget

to be human for awhile

 

So I tore from myself

small strips of regret

and tied the cloth of those sins

to a dogwood tree

I cried at the wrath of the earth

calling for my explanations

of falling off the edge of this world

So long ago, now, it seems

 

I entered the badlands

of buzzing insects, leeches

and steam

I let myself go back that way again

and found the answer to that riddle:

 

I was never really me.

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Love was an old brick Road

Once we carried wishes in our mouths, our bleeding hearts choked up on poetry and whiskey, the nostalgia of childhood dreams.

When romance was the ocean calling us down to the shore, we ran in rhythm to the pulse of the waves, and stripped down beyond our naked vulnerability, plunged ourselves deep into the indigo of what we thought we’d have.

When love was an old brick road, we danced in ryhthm to the beat of the setting sun, kissed his feet goodnight and worshipped the moon as she rose.

Love was an old brick road, but somewhere along that path our travel plans unraveled, and I ended up walking alone.

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.

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+LJ

Just another December day in FL

So much for hoping for a chilly winter. We’ve had some days here and there, but here in Florida we usually don’t see our coldest temperatures until January and February. And even then…

It’s not always that I hope for a cold Florida winter; lately though I’ve been craving seasons. I want more of those fall colors, more of the chill misty mornings that northerners know so well. I crave damp cool air where my breath leaves my body in little white puffs.

But hey it’s Florida and I should at least be thankful that I don’t have to deal with snow.

So what does a Florida girl do when it’s warm out merely 2 days after Christmas?

Garden work!

I went out and bought myself some new herbs and flowers, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t use the lovely warm weather to clean up and reconstruct what used to be my herb spiral.

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It is a medicine wheel now. πŸ™‚ I cleaned and prepped the bed and soil about a week beforehand, and my new little herb corner should do lovely!

That’s how Florida natives roll. We’re either decorating palm trees for Christmas or working in our gardens in December!

 

Happy Holidays!

Under the November Sun

Florida always delivers on an amazing sunset. Her nature is unique, offering temperate and enjoyable weather as winter rolls in. Winters in Florida can be utterly beautiful.

 

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The birds that soar over the waves are migratory and natives. The air sings with promise, and the chilly sea breeze carries a mystical note reminding me of the necessity of stopping for a moment to enjoy what Nature is placing before me..

 

 

To remember

What is it to hold memories? What is it we feel when stepping silently among the graves of people who once felt what we feel, who once loved as we love?

As the light half of the year is nearly gone, I seek the spirit of truth among the trees. I seek the enlightenment, the means to remember the calling that stitches itself to the strands of my DNA.

The need for flight and otherwordly observation is budding within a body which longs for transcendence, longs for a memory of where she’s been.

Mysteries are buried in the stone, and it’s a difficult thing, ignoring the fluttering of thoughts jumbled together within a mind trying for solitude. The dead offer peace, tranquil cerulean dreams. I seek within the shades of the earth, and find myself attached to this meaning.

The meaning between Life and Death and everything woven within.