Friday, February 11

Horns and Laughter

Braced in the chasm of falling light
she found her space
in a place thats filled with gray
its that kind of gray that mimics old stones
you know
the ones that hold you in time
as your floating down
when you lose your ground

she knows there is no ground
there's no need to remind her
she knows its all changing
always anyway

But still
somehow having walls of ashes makes sense to her now

she knows there is nothing to grasp
that grasping is like holding onto air
and only the molecules appear
that impermanence is the only thing lasting
the only thing thats clear

she finds peace in the perfect placement of her owl pictures and relics

she's finding meaning in the way the paper lantern light gently touches the tree goddess that now hangs upon her imperfect wall

Roots appeal to her now

And as she leans into the pulsation of her molten red hot core
she's reminded of past lovers' eyes
held as memories now
like the space they occupy
on portable hard drives

But still
she's dancing between the shimmering silvery light that is reflected in those same purple curtains
and the paper patriarchal spiritual lineage chart
once again
above her bed

She finds relief
that it now holds womenfolk's names
like Jiko
and ryushin

When she looks up to find the Twins in this late winter city sky
all she sees are head lights and bikers passing by

But its okay,
if you listen in a certain tone
there's an ease to the city sounds
honking horns or sirens
laughter from a distance
erupting from unknown mouths
with delight in mind

She's finding a truth in the eyes of the passengers in the cars by her side

Stop lights forcing us to stop. Thankfully, its one thing we city folk got.

She's finding a time for contact in her early morning commute
an uncommon kind of closeness in this, The Renaissance City, The City of Divine

Open. More.

Do it again. Again and again

All the while regina speckor sings to buildings
on repeat
in the background

When she looks up she reads the words:

"Be present
Moment by Moment
Don't check out."

And her heart opens. Again. From Rohatsu in Santa Fe to lonely nights in Providence.

Yet it all makes sense. Yes. For this moment in translation, all is okay.