Saturday, March 31, 2012

Finding Center















Imagine: origin unknown

To die

in life

Precious Gift.


Being the place

the space

Boundless.


Safe

Womb

Mother

Floating,

Ocean into

Universe

into me

you

me

everything.


Words,

Gestures

melt into essence

are known

not needed.


Here

YOU

are


and so am I (eye).


Witness

This/All

completely.


From

Here


Live.

Choice is

no choice

It is


Your faithful

Lover.


Deepen,

broaden

marriage


Vow…

This place

This space

Sacred.


©1997-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Saturday, March 10, 2012

The Silence


Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Those who say…

“There is silence in the forest.”

“There is silence at the lake.”

“There is silence throughout the desert.”

“There is silence as the bluefish schools
the surface of the tourmaline ocean.”

“There is silence as the barn owl hovers
above vole-cowering meadow.”

“There is silence as the honey bee ambles
across coneflower head under cloud-wisp sky.”

…Have never heard their own voice

offering up the prayer of gratitude

that the silence

was created for.

(c) 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser 
Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life." (www.hiraethpress.com)

(Feel free to share. Poetry is meant to move.)

Saturday, March 3, 2012

It is Through You



















Image: origin unknown

You are not apart from Her,
but a part of Her.

It is through your eyes that Her beauty
gains form and story,
and too that heart-wrenching lament
that initiates boys into authentic manhood.

It is through your ears that Her song
finds the drum and rhythm,
and too that ancient requiem of longing
that Sees the wild yearning to be
seen in the woman who has not fully
forgotten what a humming child
knows of liberation.

Through your calloused hands,
She touches her own body.

Through your bare and wanting feet,
She can travel to places of Herself
in the way that
none of us can go alone.

So, this I must say:

Take no part in your tale of unworthiness.

Make short banter with all language of doubt.

Let there be no more epic sagas in which the hero
falls silently upon the very sword that She
has forged for him of Her very own
smelted heart.

No Sir.

As a part of Her myself and upon Her behalf
in the manner that serves all kin
baring close resemblance to the
Breath of Life,

I ask of you this with a polite
yet rabid fierceness, because anything else
would be too small an effort in lieu of
what is most important,

Do this:

Upon every tender inspiration,

Upon every harrowed vulnerability,

let your tongue drip
with languid bliss and humor
the wisest of trembling pearls –

all the while knowing,

you speak,

with the Mother’s tongue.


(c) 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Re-Union: Coming Home to Each Other" (a work in progress) 

(Feel free to share. Poetry is meant to move.)

Friday, March 2, 2012

Daffodil















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

His yellow smock

offers no apologies

for its brazen attempt

to embody the bold cry

that we fear might pass

our own lips.


Even on culturally accepted

moments of

ecstatic inspiration –


Such as the viewing

of spring-time blooms –


So many will remain

wanting of their

expression

of Glory.


© 2010-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Note to Self: Poems fro Changing the World from the Inside Out" (Hiraeth Press; http://www.hiraethpress.com)