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
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
Sometimes I see forever before knowing if I can make it. Sometimes life falls apart like clumps of dirt held tightly in my hands. Will I be scattered on the wind this time, like the spokes of a wishflower? The force of air and spit from a mouth thrusting me into the unknown? Or will … Continue reading Molting
The little deaths Winter brings; To ride them out 'til it's warm again, this is the task. The water is raging under this house on stilts. The rain is chipping away at all the vulnerable and thirsty things. Am I safe inside this box, kept warm by power that isn’t mine? Am I really secure … Continue reading Winter’s Little Death
I. The sun peeks through hazy sky and she looks beautiful in grey and gold. She is like that sun persisting through the blanket of clouds that threaten a distant storm but haven't gathered enough water yet, not today. She is not striving to rule the sky, and she can't see it yet, but she … Continue reading The Sleepy Sun and Her Starry Friend
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.
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.
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
Poet's Notes: I rarely write rhyming poems, unless I'm writing song lyrics, and even then they are more loose and lyrical. This is not technically perfect rhyming or meter, I just wanted to try and express an idea this way. It's a good exercise, and sometimes the limitations of rhyme lead to more concise metaphor, or at least, to keeping one on a more defined track. Also, there is irony in this topic being expressed within the confines of an imposed 'meter', which is apropos, and somewhat amusing to my geeky brain.
