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Come with me into the expansive gift of poetry to experience a disruption of habitual ways of thinking and perceiving. The magic of poetry happens when it is spoken, heard and felt as vibrations in your body.

In this blog I offer you heartfelt, homemade recordings of some of my favorite poems. I invite you also to spend time with their pulsing vibrations and pregnant pauses, to savor the luscious sensual syllables on your tongue, and to feel the subtle changes in your being as you play with the poems.

Listen, read and then slowly speak them out loud. The medicine of poetry will endlessly surprise and delight you as a portal into your own wild multidimensionality!

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Belonging

7/10/2022

 
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​Belonging is a river
not a goal.
Every point is holy--
but you cannot linger there
without losing yourself
for you are the motion
of your journey.
No idea,
no attainment,
no goal,
can encompass
the truth
which lives only as it dies
into new life.
Your are the pain--
let it go.
Your are the joy--
let it go.
You are actions taken and not taken--
let them go.
Your are the dream--
let it go.
Move with the mark
of the unknown upon you
and life will enter your blood like a river.
This world was always holy
and you were always a rising flame
upon its altar.

​    - Bernadette Miller


i thank You God for most this amazing, for Summer Solstice

6/19/2022

 
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Dancing Tree Spirits by annie b.

​​i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings;and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

​    - e.e. cummings

You Reading This, Be Ready

5/15/2022

 
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Photograph by Jennifer Martin

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along the shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now?  Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day.  This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life --

What can anyone give you greater than now, 
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

​    - William Stafford

Love Song

4/17/2022

 
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Paintings by Jessica Watts

​I hear other names for You – The Inviolable One,
God, Allah, Wakantanka, Higher Power,
The Ineffable. But why bother,
when You call to me by no name at all and I come.

Neither of us have a word for each other
save Us.
And even that is nobody’s business
​but Ours.

So let’s forget such partitions as names
and discuss this April day within,
which captures birds in flight
and all their eggs and songs
in one straight deed of liberation.

The mighty have fallen around this peace.
But let’s not get into that, when every moment
is roses, and the scent You give off tastes
in my nose like Now.
Like Forever. Like Now.

​All I want from You is nothing.
Peace is a dance, after all.
Peace moves. Peace laughs.
And Peace’s discussion is boughs of trees,
light, carriages, actors at their bent,
bravery in and out of action,
for after all, what, what, what
in this world is possibly not roses?

    - Bruce Moody
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Speaking Tree

4/3/2022

 
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Photograph by Ken Kingsbury. Used with permission.

​​I had a beautiful dream I was dancing with a tree.
                                                                   —Sandra Cisneros

Some things on this earth are unspeakable:
Genealogy of the broken--
A shy wind threading leaves after a massacre,
Or the smell of coffee and no one there--

Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,
But they do not understand poetry--

Nor can they hear the singing of trees when they are fed by
Wind, or water music--
Or hear their cries of anguish when they are broken and bereft--

Now I am a woman longing to be a tree, planted in a moist, dark earth
Between sunrise and sunset--

I cannot walk through all realms--
I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark--

What shall I do with all this heartache?

The deepest-rooted dream of a tree is to walk
Even just a little ways, from the place next to the doorway--
To the edge of the river of life, and drink--

I have heard trees talking, long after the sun has gone down:

Imagine what would it be like to dance close together
In this land of water and knowledge. . .

To drink deep what is undrinkable.

   
- Joy Harjo


Great As You Are

3/6/2022

 
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Great As You Are by Cindy Wood
www.cindywoodart.com

​​Be like a bear in the forest of yourself.
Even sleeping you are powerful in your breath.
Every hair has life
and standing, as you do, swaying
from one foot to the other
all the forest stands with you.
Each minute sound, one after another,
is distinct in your ear. Here
in the blur of mixed sensations, you can
feel the crisp outline of being, particulate.
Great as you are, huge as you are and
growling like the deepest drum,
the continual vibration that makes music
what it is,
not some light stone skipped on the surface of things,
you travel below
sounding the depths where only the dauntless go.
Be like the bear and
do not forget
how you rounded your
massive shape over the just ripened
berry which burst
in your mouth that moment
how you rolled in
the wet grass, cool and silvery, mingling
with your sensate skin,
how you shut
your eyes and swam far and farther
still, starlight
shaping itself to your body,
starship rocking the grand, slow waves
under the white trees, in the
snowy night.

    - Susan Griffin

Be the mystery at the crossroads

2/20/2022

 
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Earth: I Flow by Cindy Wood, www.cindywoodart.com
 
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell.  As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

    - Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29

The Scripture of Circle

1/30/2022

 
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Female Strength by Helena Arturaleza Schotman

There is no refuge 
No destination 
No resolution 
Only This

Blessed are the fruit of my womb 
Blessed are the cycles that have no end
Blessed is the Wound 
Blessed is the Hole 

Blessed is the space that holds you always 
Blessed is this unfinished life 
Blessed is the eternal and unchanging
Blessed are we who bear the unbearable 
who carry our cross from first to last breath 

Blessed are we who know the relentless mercy of the 
Mysterious Other 
known only when we sacrifice our reaching 

There is no refuge 
No destination 
No resolution 
Only This

To you who are the Birther of Samsara 
and the doorway to Nirvana 
To you whose Love 
is the bridge that flows between them 
To you who holds the mirror of perfection 
inside the crack of imperfection 
whose Road leads nowhere and is everywhere 

To you whose breast is the refuge of no refuge 
To you whose passion dissolves all ignorance 
and whose innocence reveals unstained beauty 
​
Enveloped by your Grace
With nowhere to go
Around and around 
Heart to the Ground

Here
I
am 

-Maya Luna

Escape

1/23/2022

 
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Gaia by Alex Grey

​When we get out of the glass bottles of our own ego,
and when we escape like squirrels from turning in the cages of our personality
and get into the forest again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us
so that we don’t know ourselves.

Cool, unlying life will rush in,
and passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power
and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like burnt paper.

    - D.H. Lawrence

It is I Who Must Begin

1/9/2022

 
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"Not in her wildest dreams.
She was a turtle gal
--slow, timid, awkward...and then."
Painting by Gretchen Butler

​ It is I who must begin.
Once I begin, once I try --
here and now,
right where I am,
not excusing myself
by saying things
would be easier elsewhere,
without grand speeches and
ostentatious gestures,
but all the more persistently
— to live in harmony
with the “voice of Being,” as I
understand it within myself
— as soon as I begin that,
I suddenly discover,
to my surprise, that
I am neither the only one,
nor the first,
nor the most important one
to have set out
upon that road.

Whether all is really lost
or not depends entirely on
whether or not I am lost.
​
~ Václav Havel ~

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  • Home
  • Wild Words Poetry Blog
  • Ecos de la Marea
  • About
    • About Xochitl
    • Spiritual Midwifery
    • Client Experiences
  • Services
    • The Emotion Code & The Body Code
    • Biodynamic Craniosacral Therapy
    • Quantum Touch
    • Reconnective Healing
    • Death Midwifery & Home Funeral Guide
    • Animal Healing
  • Events
    • Workshops
    • Ceremonies
  • Hours & Fees
  • Contact