Aging

Aging

Fifty
“Age is just a number”

51
A number that denotes a passage of time
52
A passage of time through space
53
Specific space
54
Around a specific star
55
In an agreed upon division of both time and space.
56

“Grow old gracefully”
57
Where “gracefully” means attractively and elegantly
58
Where brawn is more important that brain
59
…smooth away wrinkles and fine lines
60
…hide your grey
61
…try to look 10 years younger
62


“Growing old is not growing up”
63
And “youth is wasted on the young”
64
Yet we race to stay young
65
As our bodies slide towards oblivion
66


I still wonder at the Universe
67
And think I can move mountains
68
So don’t tell me I can’t and shouldn’t and ought not to
69
Because I will and I can and yes I should
70


“Today is the oldest you’ve ever been…
71
…and the youngest you’ll ever be again.”
72
Some old person said that,
73
At some point in the past
74
Eleanor Roosevelt, I believe.
75
But well before my time
76


So I stand at the intersection
77
of Life and of Death
78
of Youth and of Old Age

70-NINE
..aaannddd
80
Ready or not…
Here I come
Still looking for home base
So I can be Safe.
.
.
.
Olly olly oxen free
Found you!
You’re It!
Let's play again.

1
New life caught in an inhalation of Be-ing
2
No peeking!

Three

Threads of Grief

     I hold a tendril of sanity

with hands unsteady

       unsure 

             worrying the frayed edges 

                    with my thoughts

                                anxieties 

                                          what ifs

                                          and 

                    why nots

              and 

                what if I’m wrongs 

The tension of the passers-by

 held in the tightness of their faces

   Their dread

      symptoming into blossoming 

              dis-ease

                     PRESSES

against my ribcage

      squeezing my heart into 

palpitating stillness

My heart shatters 

And my spirit cries into the 

   miasmic howl

       searching

calling

  beseeching 

the Universe 

for release

 I no longer recognize the tendrils that I have gathered

 

while trying to weave some coherent tapestry

        of

            my

                Life

And in those moments

            grief 

            spills

            out

    Sloshing across tenuously crafted knots

                Smearing ink across pages

                     Shrieking through the holes

        adding 

            harmonic counterpoint 

   to my 

        heart-rended cry

           

And all of the threads disperse 

away 

from 

me

                I catch my breath

            in gulping  

guttural 

sobs

   

    One strand glimmers and floats towards me

        a filament of barely-there hope

    I grasp it and

wrap myself 

        around it

 Hoping for reprieve   

The grief subsides and sits once more

the sadness dims and steps to the side

And I begin my thread gathering again

   unsteady 

          unsure 

             

              determined   

I am not in mourning

   but sadness dogs my every step

I am not grieving

  but grief sits next to me every moment

Seen in Grief

You let me see you, in your grief.

Your nervous defenses lay,

forgotten,

at your feet.

You looked at me,

not in defeat,

without pretense,

with no self-conscious deference.

There was no guile,

no fear,

no worry of being seen.

It was just you,

open,

heart and soul

bared to the elements.

Your spirit cried out 

for connection,

for soothing,

for shared peace.

And yet,

it was without supplication.

It was not demanding.

It was not entitled.

It was just you.

Your strength.

Your determination.

Your beauty.

Your grief.

You.

And in that moment,
I fell in love.

Sky Dragons Bones

Sky Dragons Bones
7.22.22

Bones of the Sky Dragons
flood the sky

The marrow splits and sparks
and the Dragons roar
as the bones crack with a thunderous tone

Disconnecting
Reconnecting
chasing themselves
to reassemble in various manners
of re-forming

The skins float in gauzy
translucent strips
catching errant breezes
shredding to nothingness
until they are able to condensate into
new skin

Some days
Sky Dragons travel in waves

Some days
they travel along the invisible ether
waiting for a precipitating event

Some days
they move in great piling clumps of
Sky Dragon Councils
sharing their thoughts
in great resonating rumbles

Sway

I sit at intersecting points
of time and space
witnessing the ebb and flow
of all eternity

Patterns sway
connecting then to now
intertwining music heard with
light seen

Time sways
as ancestral descendents
stretch through the infinite horizon
with hopes and dreams

Trees sway
to the time kept
by the swirl of sound
and upheaval of Be-ing

Space sways
from the edge of chaos
to the brink of
cellular order

Emotions sway
enveloping all the
highs and lows
and everything in between

Love sways
flowing from
me to the Universe
and back again

I sway
forward and back
caught in the deluge
of endless spirals

Infinity

 11.17.17

Tree of Light
   Tree of Dark

A crimson bull impales me upon his black horns

I watch as my life force drains away

I am washed away by the sea and the sea washes back 
         as me

light fades

darkness grows

and I dwindle 

    to an infinite point 

            of brilliant nothing

I let go of myself 
    and bid

        farewell

to all I was

all I hoped to be

all I could never be

And infinite darkness
                extinguishes
my point of light

And in the vast emptiness 
of time
and
space

I am all.

I am everything.

I am nothing.

                            And my pattern fills the void

as much as the void has overwhelmed me

I am not alone.

I am surrounded

                by me.

All I have ever been.

All I was meant to be.

All of infinity.

    

                    And I wash up on the shore,

            broken,

        complete,

                Everything,

                                    nothing.

As my ancestors
                    and descendants

                        watch

across time

and

space.

And I join with them
    as they join with me,
until we

                        mobius strip 

into each other.

        and all that is around us

                        becomes us.

            And we become all.

We become one.

       

Fire Cycle

Fire Cycle

By: GinaMarie 

2/6/22

Ashes drifting through the air

as embers wait around me.

Fuel lays prepped

ready  to stoke the fire,

waiting,

for the time

to spark.

I move things

and empty the furnace,

clearing away what will not

add to the flame.

The flame sparks,

igniting destruction.

Growing the fire--

adding fuel to the conflagration,

fanning the flame

to a height of infernic rage.

Feeding the dragon to sustain the power,

the light,

the heat,

the rejuvenation of being.

The rage declines to the point

of a steady  burn.

The flames lower and

the forge is ready to ignite creation.

Galaxies swirl, new life is born, 

and the fire subsides

into a deep space

of midnight ember.

And then,

I choose an ember

to hold,

and sustain,

and carry with me

for the next iteration of...

Ashes drifting through the air

as embers wait around me.

Timeless

 We are  timeless

you and I

from the edge of the universe

to our mitochondrial DNA

everything separate

and yet every point connected to the other

Your inhalation

is my outbreath

our ecstatic sigh

everything

and nothing

and everything in between

When we’re apart

a piece of me is with you

When we’re together

no words need to be said

and yet I have a desire 

      to ask you questions 

           just to hear your voice

               to make you laugh

        just to have you with me

everywhere 

and nowhere

and every point between

until there is no space between us

even when you’re far away

We are  timeless

you and I

Rain of the Ancestors

Rain of the Ancestors

flows in my veins

connecting me to the stars below

and the oceans above

Intertwined

and intermixed

Blood of the Descendants

flows through the seas

connecting them to the Ancestors before 

and to Kin who come after

Held

and holding

Exchanging who we are

for who we were

for who we will be

Learning from the past

Sending lessons to the future

Standing here

Now

Allowing myself to be a nexus

       a gathering point 

                           a conduit

Transforming

from then

through now

to future points beyond my sight

Reservoir

and Release 

Overheard at the Overlook

Overheard at the Overlook
5/18/21

Looks like a good place to sit...

So far so good!

There were so many people dying in avalanches this year...

This looks like a good place to stop.

Nature hates a straight line...

...and water always goes down hill, I’ve noticed.

See that flat topped mountain over there? That’s a mesa.

These little birds have to almost hit me in the head before I see them.

We need a stick.

Perfect ...I mean...

We need a bird call.

(caw, caw-caw-caw)

Thank god there’s a sign and a signal.

There isn’t anything I can’t do without...

...I saw a pair of earrings that I liked

(wind rushing through the leaves)

(airplane flying overhead)

Two, two hearts...Me and your brother

Big ditch.

(cars driving on the roadway)

You seldom remember...

Can you take a picture?

I’m going to stand up.

(something in another language)

(chirp-chirp, chirrip, chirrup-chirp)

I just realized as we got out of the car, I realized, it feels like we couldn’t have done all of that in two years.

It’s really annoying to not have the four of you who are travelling, together.

Have a good trip!

It would be nice if it was snowing.

I’m going to start talking to you in Filipino.

(hummingbird hums by)

Woww…

That’s a deep hole.

Don’t spit!

Ooo...I see a cave!

Come over here by your sister.

Amazingly I have really good signal here.

You all want a picture with the kids?

1, 2, 3…

There you are, act like you’re a part of the family.

Did you switch your airpods with mine?

You’re going to want to drop those masks for the picture...

Where are you all from?

Thank you.

Cool...I’ll bet they like that...

Excuse me...do you own an orange ford escape?    Yes…?

Is this your key?      Oh, my gosh!

Connected

From distant shores, to our front doors, We are connected. From the blood in my veins, to the great savannah plains, We are connected. From galaxies swirling through space, to the cells that help us taste, We are connected. From the beating of our hearts, to the fusion process igniting stars, We are connected. From the waters of the deep, to the babies as they sleep, We are connected. From the tiny ant held in your hand, to the beaches with all the sand, We are connected. Each strand of our existence is connected to others.

Through time and space, and even beyond, those strands keep us connected. Knowing who we are and what our connections hold, helps us build new connections and expanding pathways. Be kind with your words. Be gentle in your steps. Be soft with your gaze. We are connected.

Healing the Ancestors, Blessing the Descendants

Trauma of the Ancestors 

7 generations back,

my DNA was shaped,

turning on this marker,

switching off that one.

 

7 generations ago,

choices were made,

that subtly finessed, 

my anxieties.

7 generations previous,

options were weighed,

and paths followed,

leading to the complexity of me.

7 generations forward,

I place my experiences,

into the science project,

that will birth a new breed of human.

7 generations hence,

the paths I walk,

affect the flutter of happy,

that blossoms into full-fledged joy.

7 generations following,

I pass along what I know,

my strengths, my flaws, 

my hopes, and dreams reach culmination.

I envision,

the healing of the trauma of the ancestors

to flow through me and

ignite in the DNA of my descendants.

Death of Gaia

Dipped in the ink

of dreams half-forgotten,

Scribbled across a midnight sky

Angels dancing on the backs of dragons

as pitch black rain fills my eyes...

Giant swaths of my skin are ripped from my bones

as if removing the outer layer

will enable access to the understanding of my soul.

The cries of the smallest creatures,

the hairstreak butterfly

      the rusty patched bumble bee

            the eight-spot butterfly

                  the Kona giant looper moth

and countless others,

fill my ears with the crescendo of their silence.

Dark clouds--

not the life-bringing, heavy with rain, dark clouds--

but the ones that 

             vomit 

into the sky, 

cloyingly grasping

for every breath of fresh air.

The silence grows as the domino effect, 

               heralded by the silencing of the pollinators,

begins to cascade,

         quicker,

                    and quicker,

                                 and  quicker still.

I buck my earthen hips

straining to break free

belching forth fiery rivers of lava

raining lightning from the core of my being

weeping

as the slide to complete annihilation

 continues

         its

           extinctual 

                      path.

Self-preservation is paramount.

I fold in on myself,

preserving the essence of my core,

and begin to release the pieces that no longer serve me.

Sloughing off the detritus

Exfoliating the dead cells.

I will survive. 

I will let go of what continually destroys me. 

  I shed what I don’t need,

         don’t want,

              refuse to carry forward.

I continue my circling journey to hibernating self-preservation

letting centrifugal motion carry away the excess.

I hold what is essential to me

knowing that I can return

when death has removed the blemishes.

I will stretch into the new beginning,

allowing my being to expand, once again,

through dream-remembered skies.

    

Connection Magic

Magic:
flies on the edge of the storm,

flits on the tips of hummingbird wings,

flows in the veins of all beings.

It is the way the air smells just before the first rain of monsooons.
It is the way the sun feels after swimming in clear, cold water.
It is the way a tomato tastes, when it is sun-ripened and freshly picked.

Magic:
slides along ravines and canyons,

skims along the snowy peaks,

slips through the core of all that is.

It is the sound of a baby's first laugh.
It is catching a glimpse of the season's first rainbow.
It is the culmination of all the senses.

Magic:
connects to the beginning of time,

anchors at the edge of the universe,

interweaves everything.

Remember your connection to magic.
Remember your connection to all that is.
Remember your connection to now.

darkness

embraced by inner darkness
I warm myself by the last ember
of light

                          fear circles my soul
like starving wild animals
                 as my soul cries out for solace
                                                 craving peace
                                                     desiring love
                                                       hoping for connection

                                          love

                            hope


how does "afraid of the dark"
                 work
when the darkness has settled
          in ones
                        heart

how does darkness
change
who I am
who I was
who I will be
...who I am

how does darkness
change
once I embrace it
after I integrate it into my being

when I stop hiding from it

how do I

change

who was

where
I 

am

how do I
change

where I was

when
I

am

here

shadows wisp around my feet
grasping at the edges of my psyche
tickling the hems of my mind

                     looking for fuel

to burst into a raging fire
                               filling my mind with terrifying
                    anxious
                    mind-buzzing


    trepidation


The wards
              set centuries ago
tremble
       and waver
    and crumble

they were placed
in fear
and cannot

truly

hold back the onslaught

      of

what is right
what is sacred
what is holy
...what is right

      Releasing that which no longer serves
Setting free what doesn't work
           Relinquishing my death grip on what isn't providing
                              isn't useful
                                          doesn't sustain
Allowing it to flow
          to where it would go
             to connect to its purpose

So I can call in mine

Land of Ancestors

Mirages snake across the road

like watery serpents on an asphalt sky

Ancestor spirits

dance in the corner of my eye

Time catches my heels

and pulls me backwards

causing my heartbeat to slow

         to a

                    single

              beat

caught in the loop of

              here

      but not quite

               there

     but almost not

Magma squeezes out

to the lava flow

as blackened rain cinders from the sky

Raven warbles laughter from an all but hidden perch

     as Hawk shrieks to a morning-rising moon

                 Vulture drafts up thermal slides

           Horned Toad reports the status of the weather

and Pronghorn's progress bounds across the landscape

Sun sets in a molten sky

Moon expands her hold across the softening scenery

Sky initiates a celebration with star-laden darkness

Grief

The Earth mourns

Grieving for the loss of what is holy
mourning for the squandering of what is hallowed
agonizing over the disappearance of the sacred

Lamentations blow across the barren landscapes
as the dirt cries out for sustenance
from the dying sky

Eyes dry with unshed tears...
"Every drop is sacred, don't let one drop be lost into the wailing wasteland."

Heartbreak slips through the cracks of the pavement
and rises into the blistering air

The inhabitants who are aware of the anguish
ache to assuage the pain
to end the torment
to heal the gashes that continue to rip asunder

Their keening sobs
pierce to the ends of the Universe
 crying out for justice
    for mitigation
         for reparation

And from the desolation
                rises a new breed
                       lean, strong, resolute
                                     children of the desolation

                carrying in their DNA
                     the seeds of change
    

                                    of regrowth
                                         

the downfall of the defilers

They entwine their hands in the ashes of the misery

They pour their blood

  their sweat     

their tears               

the very essence of their being           

into the wounds crying out for mending       

They reach deep into the soul                  

the core                                      

the unplumbed depths 

of Gaia

And pull forth...

Themselves

Fashioned into a new excalibur

steel Fleshed in the skin of the goddess

warriors Intertwined with nature

Symbiotic beings that reach to the sky

rooted to the core of the planet

across Time

Through space

using the ashes to mark a time of remembrance

as a memorial of contamination 

to never return to

Prologue

Little girl,
    with wild
                flower 
             hair.

Paint and dirt and sunshine
      scattered across your face;

       laughter tangled in your dancing feet.

Gazing in anticipation,
               waiting for the first inhalation of daybreak.

           Little boy,
        with
  dew-kissed 
     skin.

Moonlight and starlight 
     sparkling from your eyes;

                  music entwined in your embracing arms.

Staring in wonderment,
              waiting for the last hush of nightfall.

Precious YOU!
    Full of sweet
              possibilities.

Light and dark,
               before and after,
                                  never and always,
            flowing all around you.

Adventure encapsulates your soul.

     We lean in.
            
            And.... 

Remembering

Remembering

When our hearts ache with yearning
for those we’ve left behind

When our eyes burn with the dryness
of too many tears

When our voices fail for all the words
that have already been spoken

When we long for past simplicity
and future contentment

When our steps falter
and our tread is heavy

When every path is beset with
da-gors, demons, and all manner of ‘ware-beasts

When all is lost and every past advantage
has wisped away to nothingness

Do not forget the path that has led us here

Remember the times of beauty

Remember the sounds of joy and ecstasy

Remember the touch of gently fierce passion

Remember the scent of freshly fallen rain

Remember that all those paths have also led you here

From the Land

To sleep

With the silence of death

Until the sun no longer sets

The Patterns flow

Expended evermore

From dusky dawn

To violet moon and

Under the noonday skies

The Mother Stones

Stand their guard

Warding warp and weft

As all that is

Wends and weaves

Together and between

Filling the tapestry with Life