Underbelly

Sometimes

the poem is born from the  

underbelly where the

fire lies.

I will

write from the place where

broken turns broken

open like too much becomes over-

flowing like

river like

can't contain this 

could never contain this, like

tried to tame this

tried to train this

tried to good girl this

truth, this human, this

woman out of me, like -- 

I am learning to

breathe this body.  Learning to

move to

unsmall myself, learning to

expand.  You may not

chain me: I am

untethered,

frightened and

flying. I am

everything you fear and

living in this broken,

holy body, I will

risk

the blossom of this

too much, this

intensity

this

truth-stained, battered

transparent heart of a body is

all I have and I will
rely on her for she is

fierce.  You may not

convince me

otherwise and

my heart will 

believe these words.  Sheds

tears to believe these words, it took me

years to remember how

to pull my tear ducts

open but now I let old
pieces of myself fall like

stars: hope-filled and

sad, yet 

beautiful in the

dark.

God, make me fierce

enough to hold this holy

boldness.  Turn me vast and

spacious: unleash in me a wondering

furious love to keep me

moving                

fighting                

wanting               

speaking.

Here.

A New Year Poem in 3 Acts

I.      Resolutions

Sometimes I wonder about the cost of being human.

I wonder if I made a covenant with a divine

being I have since forgotten

to pay on this ride; I wonder if I

am pulling my weight.

I could make a resolution.

Everyone could make a resolution.

We could all make resolutions like I will: 

                               lose 20 pounds and eat more vegetables

or                           give to charity and volunteer for the homelessanimalshelterfoodpantry

or                           beabetterperson who doesbetterthings and thinksbetterthoughts.

It would not be wrong and many will do it.

I could make a resolution.

Promise is a synonym for resolution.

As are oath / pledge / purpose --

this is no small matter in a world of the

uncompromising splendor and

terror we

live, enable, unmask.

 A synonym for resolute is stubborn.

So are determined / unwavering / definite --

there is power in this,

the living, the marching rising lifting hearing speaking yelling falling and

rising again.

I do not love the coming of the year.

When more in me feels old than new and

change hangs like a pendulum swinging without

gravity or physics,

resolutions surround that may/not be of consequence

and the weight of the unresolved shifts like earth

quake: break me open.  Make me

thunderous and messy in my

shaking, challenge me to be dis-

comforted, up-rooted and

growing.  Unquiet my heart and light a

fire to burn my too soft edges -- the world is precious and I am

stubborn.

Let me learn to pay the cost of being human in

raw, determined love:

this promise is one I must continually learn

to keep.

II.     Revelations

New Year "beginning again" is not my

target: growth is too hard

won to aim for beginning

anew, roll that clock

onward, I am standing

under the dripping

faucet of faith, waiting for

no one: I am my own

Godot. And aren't I

dangerous? Aren't I a woman to be

feared as I dare

revelations of my own

worth?

III.     Revolutions

In astronomy, natural objects in space are

heavenly bodies.

Although no one says it,

we celebrate the New Year because our

heavenly body completed one

full cycle around another heavenly

body and those cycles are

revolutions.

Quiet, unassuming amid our

fireworks and ball drops, the

heavenly body heaves herself to home plate

without a sigh of derision, the

gravity of this revolutionary

love literally holding us all

here, we

human bodies crack

under both weight and

weightlessness, we know

revolution

is the key for our survival

revolution

is making it home when they tried to end you
revolution
is holding it all in love, and anger, and fear, 

revolution

is the will to keep your

heavenly body

cycling.