Wild Words: Ferociously Nourishing Poetry

The Completion of Our Birth

4/18/2021

Through the Waters by Sara Honeycutt
www.newgallerystudio.com

Millennium Blessing

There is a grace approaching
that we shun as much as death,
it is the completion of our birth.

It does not come in time,
but in timelessness
when the mind sinks into the heart
and we remember.

It is an insistent grace that draws us
to the edge and beckons us surrender
safe territory and enter our enormity.

We know we must pass
beyond knowing
and fear the shedding.

But we are pulled upward
none-the-less
through forgotten ghosts
and unexpected angels,
luminous.

And there is nothing left to say
but we are That.

And that is what we sing about.

- Stephen Levine

The Whole of Creation

2/28/2021

The Whole of Creation by Emily Grieves
www.EmilyKGrievesArt.com
Used with permission.

If I began the story in the middle
you might be able to smell the nixtamal, the earthy lime
of corn masa, and the tortillas rising on the comal, warm
hands flipping them into being. You might be able to feel
the spot where my long golden ribbon pierces the crust
of the Earth, thrust down through oceans and tectonic plates
even before they were dreamed into existence, looped
and woven into the shape that holds it all into place. You might hear
the rushing of feathers slicing air as thousands of angels fall
through the gap in space that birthed it all into view, each one
bringing a thread to the weaving of life, the matrix of this new world.
You might smell the smoke of the tlecuil, the oven in which life
is cooked into living, matter kneaded into feeling, formed
and pressed with fingers, breathed upon, gazed upon, made
to be something new, something transformed
from nothing to this. And here we live now, in the whole
of creation, remembering, forgetting,
and remembering again, nestling into the weft
of the fibers, yearning to be touched
by her hands again.

- Emily Grieves

I have had the privilege of visiting the pyramids in Teotihuacan Mexico many times over the last five years. One of my favorite experiences has been getting to know The Dreaming House community, the place where I stay on my visits. They are my beloved family away from California!

The economy of the small villages surrounding Teo depends on tourism, and so the global shut down this last year has been absolutely devastating on them. If it would bring you joy to help sustain them until life is somewhat normal again later this year, we would be most grateful! 100% of your donation goes directly to families in desperate need of food. Here are several options:

You can donate directly via PayPal at: thedreaminghouse@hotmail.com.

Or, for a donation, you can participate in a virtual tour and story telling fiesta March 7th-14th. Find details at www.ExperienceTeo.com.

Or you can order a print of Emily's painting above, with or without the poem included, at www.EmilyKGrievesArt.com.

Thank you for your consideration!

Alberto and Veronica,
owners of The Dreaming House

Be Done With It

2/7/2021

Bathing in Black Light. Teotihuacan, Mexico.

I commend my Spirit unto the Grace of the Great Way
Whether consciously or not,
this has always been the doorway to liberation.

All you lovers of truth
And all you true lovers
I tell you, now is the time to be done with it
Wash your battle-scarred hands in this Presence among us

Cast off your warrior clothing, and slip into your night slippers
Untie your hair or cut it off
The Holy One is present
And doesn’t care where you’ve been
Or what you’ve done
Or what you are doing now

Commend all of yourself - body, mind and spirit - to this Grace
And then, slip out into the night air, into the
waiting
quivering
birth
of this Golden Heart

Lean down now, like wet green grass
and kiss the bottoms of your feet.

- Adyashanti

Eagle Poem

1/31/2021

Photograph by Kreated Media. Used with permission.

To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you.
And know there is more
That you can’t see, can’t hear;
Can’t know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren’t always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding out the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

-Joy Harjo

The World Began with Yes

1/3/2021

Trinity Seay, "First Breath"

One molecule said yes to another molecule and life was born.
- Clarice Lispector

It was always yes, si, da, ja
the sibilant sound of assent,
the slippery tongue in the mouth
of the lover, the da dawning,
the ya yelling,
the si, si, si, sugary & sweet
between jagged teeth.

It was always yes,
come in, welcome, eat me,
merge with me, love,
let’s join to make another
little bubble of us
who will seem like us combined
but turn out to be another.

It was always lust
not to be lonely,
lust for the apple, the pomegranate,
fruit of desire,
dense on the tongue,
making another you,
another me.

Oh love, eat me, I am yours,
fill my emptiness with joy,
with yes, da, si, si, si
let us begin that way
to make a new universe,
soulful, sad, silly,
& full of seas,
seas that are salty
& full of the stuff of life,
me, you, every wriggling creature
we can & can’t name
with alphabets as of yet unknown,
with letters that twist & turn
& try to escape the page, the scroll, the rock,
life beginning again
with only a word
of affirmation--yes!
Let it begin
& Be.

-Erica Jong

Nativity

12/27/2020

What if...
inside of you right now there was
the precious treasured long-awaited radiant beloved You,
just waiting to be born...

Photo by Robert Rowen-Herzog, 2007.

No man reaches where the moon touches a woman.
Even the moon leaves her when she opens
Deeper into the ripple in her womb
That encircles dark, to become flesh and bone.

Someone is coming ashore inside her,
A face deciphers itself from water,
And she curves around the gathering wave,
Opening to offer the life it craves.

In a corner stall of pilgrim strangers,
She falls and heaves, holding a tide of tears.
A red wire of pain feeds through every vein,
Until night unweaves and the child reaches dawn.

Outside each other now, she sees him first,
Flesh of her flesh, her dreamt son safe on earth.

- John O-Donohue

The Dream in the Garden

12/6/2020

Huge thanks to Wild Words' first
guest poet, reader and artist!
Francesca Preston
www.francescapreston.com

clothespins in elderberry ink
print by Francesca Preston

if music is the sound of fingertips
hitting a jug
in which someone once
carried water

mother
what purpose
in my growing beyond
your dream of my birth?

many times i’ve watched you
have it, the dream in the garden
where i emerge:

an old wooden clothespin
with cornsilk hair

you clip me to your breast then,
as if to jumpstart it

and after throw me away
for a reason i have not yet figured out

mother i was born with a body
thickly settled, dense
as a pomegranate

not a fruit steeped in the syrup
it will taste of

i was already hard
with the things
i had selected for myself

inside you i was
choosing and discarding
without lifting
a finger, i was

like the girl
in the department
store, deciding what
to steal

- Francesca Preston

perhaps you'd like to join Francesca for a new year of making & feeling under unusual circumstances...January Jam! every third day of the month of January, containing poetic reflection, invitations to stretch the deep-seeing mind, & the opportunity to receive while winter hibernating. a fee of $25 includes an optional mini-consult on a 2021 project of your choosing. for more information contact Francesca via her website at www.francescapreston.com

The Completion of Our Birth

The Whole of Creation

Be Done With It

Eagle Poem

The World Began with Yes

Nativity

The Dream in the Garden

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The Completion of Our Birth

The Whole of Creation

Be Done With It

Eagle Poem

The World Began with Yes

Nativity

The Dream in the Garden

Archives

Categories

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