a swoon-worthy performance poetry piece from the very swoon-worthy Andrea Gibson.
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initiation You don't need a sweat lodge stripping your secrets bare. You don't need a hailstorm drilling you hellward. You don't need the hands of a priest, the call of the wild, a mikvah, a marriage, a set of inscrutable symbols branded on your skin. You don't need your past tossed into the fire, or a drum beaten to oblivion. You don't need grief. You don't need drowning. You don't need silence. You don't need a fist squeezing your throat breathless. You don't need to flay yourself before your jurors, a moment of truth before your god, your story guillotined before the riotous pleasure of a taunting crowd. No. You need the great splintering yawn of love. A touch that fractures you from the meagerness you keep believing you deserve. A kiss that springs you from your long-paid penitence. You need the blood-striped bulbs of the amarylis. The sugar from an orange sliced into eighths. You need that bead of sweetness on your tongue, a brief but poignant reminder you have not scraped your heart for nothing. There is a song stirring in the distance, like when the palms sway in Hawaii in a late afternoon rain that brings a twinkle of windchimes. It is coming for you, slow but impeccably sure. It is carrying new words, a language you haven't yet learned but which will - when it arrives - feel like it's lived inside of you forever. It has. The beginning has already begun. Your mouth has memorized those syllables. Your cheeks are blushing with that music. While you've been away, fighting your nameless, ageless war, your whole body has been tuning itself to sing. -maya stein painting by mark rothko And even after all this time,
the sun never says to the earth 'you owe me'... Look what happens with love like that.. It lights up the whole sky. ~ Hafiz Your great mistake is to act the drama
one of my favorite poems - enjoy. God Says Yes To Me
Kaylin Haught I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic and she said yes I asked her if it was okay to be short and she said it sure is I asked her if I could wear nail polish or not wear nail polish and she said honey she calls me that sometimes she said you can do just exactly what you want to Thanks God I said And is it even okay if I don't paragraph my letters Sweetcakes God said who knows where she picked that up what I'm telling you is Yes Yes Yes from The Palm of your Hand, 1995 Tilbury House Publishers a late summer poem by Dana Faulds. enjoy - Sun Kissed The blown conch sounds
its low note. In the warm air, the fragrance of musk and lilac mingle. A wooden flute wraps its melody around me like silk. The time for dry austerities is past. I cast my robe aside, throw bare arms wide and let the sunlight have its way with me. Curves, softness, breath, beauty, movement, breasts seek the sun's embrace. A lifetime of shame lifts, burning away like morning mist. Adrift, the rising tide of passion takes me, and I do not wish to find the shore. in honor of the Mars Rover Curiosity, a poem by Rebecca Folsom.
enjoy - 140,000 Million Galaxies One hundred and forty thousand million galaxies. Each galaxy 100 billion stars. How vast the skyscape, full of timeless burning, colliding, catapulting earth-size masses, all spaciously dancing in the void. The sky looks like a bowl turned on its head, generous and stretching, holding this cosmic soup. Funny to think that this morning I was hard on myself for being a small-town girl. Any time that I want I can trade in my small thinking and feel that bowl dripping potential on my head, spinning galaxies sticky and mingling with my curls blazing dark and crisp down my body, pooling at my toes. I am a Fool crowned in the spilling glory of the delicious incomprehensible. Source: Rebecca Folsom, Sliver (2007), p. 69. © Rebecca Folsom. http://www.rebeccafolsom.com/ |
about anandalila:
Anandalila is a tantric hatha yoga teacher and moksha magick practitioner. When she is not on the mat, she enjoys reading, writing, music, birdwatching, and, of course, chocolate. Archives
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