GUIDE FOR CONSCIOUS HEALING
  • 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
    • Trips & Retreats
    • Workshops
    • Ceremonies
  • Hours & Fees
  • Contact
Picture

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!

Sign up to receive poems weekly

O Sweet Spontaneous

4/24/2022

 
Picture

​O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

             fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

        beauty      how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and 

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
         (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover 

             thou answerest


them only with 

                              spring)

     - e.e. cummings

Love Song

4/17/2022

 
Picture
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
Picture

The Art of Disappearing

2/27/2022

 
Picture
Art by Cindy Wood
www.cindywoodart.com

​When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone is telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say We should get together
say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

    - Naomi Shihab Nye

The Scripture of Circle

1/30/2022

 
Picture
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

Everything I Have is Also Yours

12/26/2021

 
Picture
The World. Painting by Shauna Crandall

There are so many gifts still unopened from your
birthday.  There are so many hand-crafted presents
that have been sent to your door by God.

The Beloved does not mind repeating, "Everything I
have is also yours."

So forgive Hafiz and the Friend if we break into a
sweet laughter when your heart complains of being
thirsty . . . when ages ago, every cell in your
body capsized forever into His infinite golden sea.

A lover's pain is like holding one's breath too long
in the middle of a vital performance, in the middle
of one of Creation's favorite songs.

Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping, this sleeping
when God just rolled over and gave you such a big
good-morning smooch.

There are so many gifts still unopened from your
soul's birthday.  There are so many hand-crafted
presents that have been sent into your life by God.

And the Beloved does not mind at all repeating,

"Everything I have is also yours."

    - 
Hafiz, trans. by Daniel Ladinsky

Arms Full

11/21/2021

 
Picture
Gratitude
bronze sculpture by Paige Bradley, 2019

​Gratitude means showing up on life's doorstep,
love's threshold, dressed in a clown suit,
rubber-nosed, gunboat shoes flapping.
Gratitude shows up with arms full of wildflowers,
reciting McKuen or the worst of Neruda.

To talk of gratitude is to be
the fool in a cynic's world.
Gratitude is pride's nightmare,
the admission of humility before something
given without expectation or attachment.

Gratitude tears open the shirt
of self importance, scatters buttons
across the polished floors of feigned indifference,
ignores the obvious and laughs out loud.

Even more, gratitude bears her breasts, rips open
her ribs to show the naked heart, the holy heart.
What if that sacred heart is not, after all, about sacrifice?
Imagine it is about joy, barefoot and foolhardy,
something unasked for, something unearned.

What if the beat we hear, when we are finally quiet is simply this:
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

​    - Rebecca del Rio

The Story

11/14/2021

 
Picture

​Step closer to the story that scares you~
the one that has you gasping for air
in the night, searching for ground.
This one wants to take you past
the lip of the void to the birthplace
of stars, where all stories dissolve
into the blessing of original song.

Leap into the love that terrifies--
you know just what it will do.
It will un-hinge every door in your house.
It will blow in like a hurricane
and re-arrange your furniture.
It will howl like a banshee through your bones
and leave you delightfully hollow.
Without this love you are only playing
at this life– and you are so tired of that!

Turn your wild horses out
into the fields in the morning,
when first light purples the hills.
They are hungry for this earth
under hoof, this thunder of full gallop.
They may trample all the places
you have so carefully tended.
They may leave you in a cloud of dust.
And yet, this is the only way
they will return to you truly,
without a fence to keep them in.

Let the current lift you
out of the churning eddy. 
There is only one place where this river flows--
through slot canyons and the eyes of midnight,
through singing valleys and greening glens.
These holy waters will have their way with you.
They are dreaming you into a body of light.
Why fight what you most long for?

    - Laura Weaver

Dear darkening ground

10/31/2021

 
Picture

Dear darkening ground,
you've endured so patiently the walls we've built,
perhaps you'll give the cities one more hour

and grant the churches and cloisters two.
And those that labor--let their work
grip them another five hours, or seven,

before you become forest again,
and water,
and widening wilderness
in that hour of inconceivable terror
when you take back your name
from all things.

Just give me a little more time!

I want to love the things
as no one has thought to love them,
until they're worthy of you and real.

    - Rilke, Book of Hours, I 61

Smooching

9/26/2021

 
Picture
Smooching Quetzalpetlatl
Teotihuacan Mexico, September 2021
 
One regret, dear world, that I am determined not to have
when I am lying on my deathbed is that
I did not kiss you enough.

There is a disease I know, it is called: being too serious.

Don't worry, you won't catch it from my poems.

I let eloquence have its say, and wisdom too and
mirth, for they can be needed companions as you
navigate this dimension and others.

Wherever you have dreamed of going, I have camped
there, and left firewood for when you arrive.

Try this someday: When you are packing or moving
any simple object around--imagine your Beloved's

hand--as yours.  And it then might become thus, if just
for a second.

But a wondrous, true moment like that would be
enough for the integration to begin,

the meld of you and light . . . and then the smooching,
the wild smooching all the time.  Why not?

    - Hafiz, trans. by Daniel Ladinsky

Funeral for a Future

9/12/2021

 
Picture
Painting by Colleen Koziara, www.mysticalwillow.com

I held a funeral for a future
I had always thought was coming,
and buried the world's face as yet.

The silence then
turned me so tiny
the only way forward was to dream
downward

to an early day on earth
before a single heart beat.
The atmosphere filled
with an abiding, cataclysmic knowing-

that if everything
could be born,

every
thing
could
be
born.

Love promises no less.

But a future is gone now.
All we are is this.

Our way could be
to fall toward the medicine
seeded right inside
the untamable, fertile grief
remaking things.

-  Brooke McNamara

<<Previous
    Picture
    Hazel Xochitl Trout
    Bodega Bay
    photo by Leyla Nobatova
    Sign up for weekly poems here
    WILD WORDS POETRY BLOG

    Archives

    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020

    Categories

    All
    Adrift
    Aging
    Angel
    Anger
    Animal
    Arm
    Beach
    Beauty
    Being
    Belly
    Bird
    Birth
    Blossoming
    Blossoms
    Body
    Breathe
    Circle
    Consciousness
    Dance
    Darkness
    Death
    Dream
    Earth
    Eggs
    Energy
    Eyes
    Fear
    Feet
    Feminine
    Fire
    Flow
    Flower
    Forest
    Forgiveness
    Fruit
    God
    Goddess
    Grace
    Gratitude
    Grief
    Hand
    Healing
    Heart
    Holiness
    Holy
    Home
    Hungry
    Infinity
    Journey
    Joy
    Jungle
    Kindness
    Knowing
    Leaf
    Life
    Light
    Liminal Space
    Listening
    Loneliness
    Longing
    Love
    Mind
    Moon
    Mother
    Mountains
    Music
    Mystery
    Naked
    Nature
    Night
    Nothing
    Ocean
    Plant Medicine
    Poetry
    Portal
    Pray
    Prayer
    Presence
    Purpose
    Rain
    Reality
    Rebirth
    Remember
    River
    Rocks
    Rose
    Sacred
    Serpent
    Shadow
    Silence
    Sky
    Snow
    Song
    Soul
    Spirit
    Spring
    Stars
    Stillness
    Storm
    Story
    Suffering
    Summer
    Sun
    Surrender
    Thirst
    Tree
    Trust
    Truth
    Turtle
    Water
    Wild
    Wilderness
    Wind
    Wings
    Winter
    Wonder
    World
    Yes

    RSS Feed

Sign up below to receive my newsletter and updates on events and workshops.

* indicates required
  • 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
    • Trips & Retreats
    • Workshops
    • Ceremonies
  • Hours & Fees
  • Contact