Fallow

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Plowed and harrowed,

but left unseeded.

What an odd and exhausting

period of rejuvenation

this is.

The dark rich soil of me longs

to support new growth,

to feed Life-sustaining nourishment

to a soul-starved world.

Oh please,

Tell me what nutrients

I still need claim

to be deemed worthy of seed.

Kernels of hope fly past

in crow beaks

but there is never an

effort made to plant.

Rain comes,

and the Sun shines

deliciously upon my hungry body

but I have nothing

to bequest in reciprocity.

So deeply rooted

are my woes

amidst this positively-intended

abandonment.

I wonder in the dark hours,

Is it the chemistry of tears

you seek?

And I offer electrolyte salts

in streams.

Still I remain fallow.

***

Hafiz tells me

a divine seed, the crown of destiny,

is hidden and sown on an ancient, fertile plain

that I hold title to.

How then does one reveal the

fore-ordained Gift of Self?

Dowsing with willow brings

me to the core:

Embryo and endosperm.

In essence, it is me

feeding the offering

of sustenance that

is myself.

I am entitled to give.

These sweet tears of joy

I absorb,

and swell.

And swell.

So this is what it feels like

to break free

from the hardness

and rise!

© 2011-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Pruning

Photo: (c) Beth Anne Boardman (thanks Bethie!)

Can you live with the scent

of larkspur on your lips

while others seek to destroy you

because of memories

they can’t recall?

Truth is not found on the

material plane.

It resides in the imprints

you’ve left during your

comings and goings

on the Other Side.

Don’t let yourself be hooked

into playing a role you

died to lifetimes ago.

The Beloved never manifests

a single rose.

You too must choose to

be a bloom a hundred times over.

Let the thorns be protectors

not villains.

And even if the shears do come,

bless your courage

for having shown up in this life

well enough

to be noticed.

© 2011-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (published by Hiraeth Press; www.hiraethpress.com)

Falling from Grace

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Where I sat on the crumbling brick wall

the pigeon fell,

gasping its last two breaths in my lap

while our eyes introduced our souls.

When I looked to heavens above,

there was only sky, cobalt blue.

What were the chances?

I know what it is to fall from grace -

That rocket-shot tumble

facilitated by your own dead weight

thundering the surface identity into

a direct collision course with

the very foundation of Life.

The impact is the point.

So many times, I’ve missed it.

Sigh.

It took a poisoned pigeon

to teach me this:

“Rest your weary wings

and unfold your heart

on the way down.”

It’s the only way

to land with Grace.

© 2011-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Asters Under a Hunter's Moon

Photo: Jamie K. Reaser

In bold defiance of nothing

we convene under a Hunter’s Moon,

white asters blooming

thighs to ankles,

a wedding train

that spans the width of this trail

and down the Path

eternally.

Life proposed at conception,

but it has taken me

decades to yield to

my worthiness as a blushing bride.

The owl says, “Who?”

And I declare, “me” -

Committing to an inextricable partnership

with the World

at the altar

of a humble and privileged

embodiment.

This breath says, “Yes.”

And so does this one.

© 2011-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life." (http://www.hiraethpress.com)