Older in circle
no different than
when I came in,
it seems
Wisdom, sage, an apothecary of soul...
Still not sure of anything
much
of anything
Should I dance?
Play music?
Keen?
Move like a river?
Or walk the stones beneath
where there is no longer River?
I'd like to wring out
whatever's left
of
whoever
I have breen practicing
to be
lo, these many years
None of which has saved the planet
None of which will save the body-mind
from this
time
we have embodied into...
There is no right way to start a poem
no right way to end one
these days:
Dance? Sing? Keen? Weep?
Move? Stay?
Leap?
"An Apothecary of Soul" em claire © 2024
I think that I will build a platform
just beneath the window's sill, inside
and lay there, listening, breathing, dreaming
The Blessing Self
is not unlike
the small bundle
of feathers & bones
and
tiny eyes
that peer into
a world more vast than fathomable;
a life that seems too big to
navigate with only
feathers & bones.
The Blessing Self
is the songbird
born with a song
it sings,
even
when it can’t fly
for a time.
Even
when something
feels broken
for a time;
needs time
to mend, needs
a nest again, and the
safe boughs for it to nestle in:
Presence and Love.
The Blessing Self
has always been
more fragile than
The Higher Self—
wasn’t even built
for Forever
in this place.
Nevertheless,
Grace
has created It
as perfect as an egg.
As perfect as every feather,
beating heart;
beak and bone.
And The Blessing Self
keeps on finding
the will to sing
with every body it is given,
that Higher song.
“The Blessing Self” em claire © 2022
Original art The Blessing Self by em claire © 2022
The deepest Presence
not coming; not going
is a Light
that does not dim.
It began, and beget us;
all we see, all we are:
“Pick a flower on earth,
and you move the farthest star”.
The deepest Presence,
my heart; your heart
one thought, all thoughts
neither near, nor far
is a Light watching light;
is a Light watching darkness:
“Pick a Flower on Earth
and you move the farthest Star”.
From where you look,
It too, will be looking,
yet when you can’t see It,
It still can be seen.
It offers This Truth:
I AM is what You Are
"Pick a flower on Earth,
and you move the farthest Star".
“The Deepest Presence” em claire © 2022
Poem inspired by Francis Thompson:
"All things by immortal power.
Near of far, to each other linked are,
that thou canst not stir a Flower,
without troubling a star."
I don’t know if my god
is the same as your god:
Is it made of Love?
Does it want for you
what you want for you?
Does it come to you
with hands opened,
asking for nothing,
but ready
for anything?
Does it whisper to you
of Light and of Stillness,
and point you toward
all of the paths
that will take you there?
Does it remind you
of your Seeing?
Does it remind you
of your Knowing?
Does it remind you
of the gentlest lover
ever you’ve dreamed,
caressing a weariness
from your heart?
Is it ever late?
Is it ever gone?
Is it made of Love?
"Is It Made of Love?" em claire © 2018
Copyright © 2024 Em Claire ~ All Rights Reserved
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