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.
Sometimes a little says a lot. This one was just too big to do it any other way.
I wrote this in a birthday card for someone very special this weekend, and thought I'd share it, since I've noticed that Someone picking up the card and re-reading it in the following days. Apparently it is a poem, according to said person, and upon re-reading, I supposed they are right. So I asked Special … Continue reading Happy Birthday
Here is a piece I wrote about being an almost step-monster.
Your eyes are the sky with clouds toying with rain and dancing with the sun. Your blues are great lakes reflecting light and hiding the depths. The ocean plays this game before dusk, in the afternoon: she fools you into the comfort of a washed tone with sheets of silver, masking the blue that could swallow … Continue reading My Elemental
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
Don't barrel in with your desire, darling, if I have not agreed to your courtship. Don't presume I am your feast when I have not given myself over. There are gifts in store for the worthy, when patience reveals him. A man's heart is a wood stove, stoke the embers for a new fire. Blue … Continue reading Rites to Enter – vers libre
This is my second acrostic, in poem form, first letter of each line to spell the word. The word was given to me, and I found it stirring up deeper, more conflicted material with straggling pieces still in need of healing. I wrote this about the experience of being injured by an emotional abuser who used … Continue reading On Confronting Beauty’s Shadow: Another Acrostic Challenge