Don’t mind me, I’m just surrendering being broken calling back all the fragments of me throughout space and time, all the pieces that got lost somewhere, stuck in shock, orphans in stasis, hungry for a mother in perpetual wonder of where they belong. I felt their search for millenia and even made it part of … Continue reading The Seeker
In the wreckage of my heart can I open anyway? In the disaster land of the aftermath of choices can I open anyway? In the rubble of decimated villages ravaged tribes pillaged body can I open anyway? Lying on the ground bleeding from takers conquering can I open anyway? Can I open to be torn … Continue reading To Be Torn Open
Here is a Prayer, Intention, and a note of Appreciation. I am grateful for the tumbler of Temperance, who’s violence smooths out sharp edges to deliver me more and more gentle. I am grateful for Sensitivity, and for all who have the courage to embrace their Feeling Selves and listen to their hearts. And to … Continue reading For Those Expanding
We try so hard to individuate, differentiate, emancipate. “Please don’t let me become like you,” we say. And she cuts her hair, like I did at twelve and sixteen, and so many more times to keep myself alone in my tower, and to scare away all the princes. Sometimes one is simply more comfortable with … Continue reading The Night Queen in Daylight
Vultures pick the wounds clean. Clarity comes through whispering trees. I am still, and listening. Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi Art: Stillness by Joyce Huntington.
It puts you out of touch with everything. And it's not as if you don't comprehend what is happening, either. That would be a blessing. But no, it's more as if there is no buffer to soften in-coming shattered glass and shrapnel, all forming a pile front-and-center in your head. You see it. It's too … Continue reading Shapeshifter (A Confessional)
This image is a still from Becoming Who I Was, the film this poem is based on. It is a documentary about a child who was a Rinpoche in his previous lifetime, and is displaced from his home in Tibet due to reincarnating in a rural region of China. He must travel, with the help of his elderly guardian, from a village in wintering China, through India, to Tibet, in the hopes of being reunited with his disciples who must claim him in order for him to fulfill his purpose for reincarnating. But Tibetan borders, as we know, are blocked and heavily guarded. I highly recommend the film, for the moving story, and for the stunning photography. And now the poem.
I have olive eyes, a green I never loved. I wanted viridian, or better yet: sage. I wanted light eyes, bright eyes, eyes that pierce and coax against their will. Eyes that people remember because they electrify; Such powerful beauty they are hard to look at (for long, at least). But my green isn't bright. … Continue reading Eye Contact
Friends always say, "Of course!" when they promise to keep in touch, keep the friendship alive, when a new mate is found. But I know you. Your hunger is so big, you struggle often to be anything else, and it's hard to think when you're starving. I know starving. Her name is Diana, you said. … Continue reading A Blessing for The Hunters
