Seeds

We accept love when it is like the flower in bloom
All beauty and sweet fragrance.
But we forget that the flower must lose its petals and close
This is how it produces a seed.
We must accept the darkness that leads to new love too
We must learn to see the love that lives under the cold blanket of earth and snow
Small and hard and waiting
The love in the seed that cannot see its own potential until it too becomes the flower.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bliss and a Red Bicycle

Dear Facebook [originally published there, republished here for Sarah Osborne], we both know I am too verbose for this to ever work. I would apologize for my selfish ways but I will never curb this habit and so it would be terribly insincere of me to do so. I suppose I could publish this instead on one of my many blogs but I'm pretty sure only Sarah Osborne would see it there. I might post it there just for her anyway. A few days ago I purchased a less than shiny but nonetheless glowing in a new-to-me sort of way cherry red bicycle. I am in love with it. We've had such wonderful times together already in our still fresh and short affair. I was just riding it home from my favourite coffee shop in downtown Boulder which was beginning to wind down for the night anyway and I was beginning to develop a fierce and insistent hunger for the avocado I'd been meaning to eat these past few days. Perhaps in part due to the feeling of joy I experience riding this bicycle, perhaps i
Read more
Heartbreak is like a world made miniature every tender trying detail significant to its structure and all the open space of the world outside, an affront to the pride that lives in the pain. This heart is haunted by sharp fragments of memories and images: The white raspberries that grew by your house I would taste on summer nights that I walked to you. Pieces of your home decorated by my love but enjoyed by strangers eyes now. The unlit windows down the street. An afternoon by the river. A dog you now live with that I don't know. Whispered sensuality on the only flight we took together. My body cold now where your touch once warmed it. Heartbreak is like the closeness of a dream wrapped in love, like the dream, all is tangible with no thought of waking or what comes after until the rude interruptions of jobs and alarm clocks hurdle you into a realm of fog and desperate grasping for what was. Your life is growing unfamiliar to me. But like the vivid remaining fragmen
Read more

33

Image
It began with a promise to honor the deeper calling from my core A blood sacrifice and an inking into my skin that commitment I moved into ceremony, I called witnesses around me, I called women to hold me. A strength and new knowing began to become me, I had such hopes And then heartbreak tore the seasons to pieces. No Spring or Summer but eclipses and a celibacy like an insult to my loud fertility The seasons all dark, all cold and all turned inward A long winter, untouched An initiation not into motherhood as I hoped, but into shadow and grief and loss I bent into work, months passed, and work bent my back, so much forgotten. I wish to bow deeply in gratitude to the dreamer To offer prayers and tears of such sweet sorrow for the silent, unseen weaving of dreams     into truths deeper than comprehension and consciousness. Ebbing and flowing directly from Mysterious Source Nurturing like a mother, ravaging like a beast. Underneath this shroud, enshrined, dreams resurr
Read more