Consumed by Death

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Sometimes Death leaves us

there, at roadside,

without apology

or explanation.

Stillness resides in nothing

but our form,

all else whizzes past

with agendas.

The palm of my right hand

has known the pulse of the

very last heart beat

beneath feathers and fur,

and skin that I watched wrinkle

for twenty-seven years.

This is my decision:

I don’t want to be abandoned

by Death –

I want to be devoured.

I want to be taken into

Death’s wet, gnashing mouth

as a wanton carcass,

insatiable in my desire

to surrender.

I want to be consumed

in my entirety,

to be nothing to which

to attach a eulogy to.

I want to depart this world

with less than I brought

into it.

When the last morsel of me

can be described as nothing

more than the last tidbit

swallowed by Death,

then, I will know,

then, I will know,

yes, I will know,

My life had been juicy enough.

© 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
To be published by Homebound Publications in October 2015

The Mouse and the Storm

Have you ever tried to escape

from that which you feared

looming

over the horizon?

The white-footed mouse

with black-bead eyes

found its way in

through some nook,

or perhaps it was a cranny,

just as the

storm

began to tell its story in

you-will-pay-attention-to-me

earnest.

What delight the mouse

must have felt as he,

or she,

surveyed his,

or her,

surroundings.

“Safe, warm, dry,

and so full of things to explore!”

We all take missteps in life.

On my knees,

giving last rites with

scrub brush and soap suds,

gazing at thin tail and blood smear

and a dollop of entrails,

Wondering was what was

called for…

What might a dry mouse’s last

thoughts be when pinned under

a firm paw in paradise?

Which of the six cats had

become the agent of death,
pearl-white canines and instinct?

Running from what we fear can be

exactly that force which conveys us

into the gaping mouth of loss,

great loss.

Sometimes it’s better to find out

what storms have to offer.

Still scrubbing away,

This, I decided, is a notion worth remembering.

So now, if you visit,

and you see the red heart painted

upon the cement,

at the basement threshold,

You’ll know what it means,

and remember the story

of a mouse and the storm.

© 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser

From Re-Union: Coming Home to Each Other (a work in progress)

The Pattern

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

There’s a pattern to things that emerges

when we stop forcing the elements

into form.

It’s the invisible cobble stones

that make up the

circuitous path that lead us

Home.

It’s the tempo of the voice that,  

one quiet night,

we recognize as our own

perfectly timed

request

to come in.

It’s the intersecting lines in the palm

of the hand

that we finally realize

has been leading us where we

never dared

imagine

we could go.

This is what patience means

to me:

Letting life sculpt us

into what Nature

intends.

Like newly dropped

seeds in a some-day

meadow.

Like the clouds

that will become

a pair of dancing

bears.

Like the rain drops

puddling until we

can’t resist four-footed

splashing,

and laughing

and hugging.

Let’s invite the day to come,

And trust that the night

will follow.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" 

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Sacred Reciprocity - NEW BOOK RELEASED

I'm pleased to announce that my newest collection of poetry, Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life, has just been released by Hiraeth Press. I offer my thanks to everyone who has supported this project with their kind words and personal gifts...that includes many of you!!!

In celebration of the event, Hiraeth Press is offering a 20% discount on my four previous Hiraeth Press titles - two anthologies and two collections of poetry.

Sacred Reciprocity is a collection of poems posted on this blog in 2011 and early 2012.

Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out largely consists of poems posted on this blog in 2010.

The other titles are only available in hard copy - Huntley Meadows: A Naturalist's Journal in Verse, Courting the Wild: Love Affairs with the Land, and Courting the Wild: Love Affairs with Reptiles and Amphibians.

We'd greatly appreciate your help spreading the word about Sacred Reciprocity's release, please feel free to share the announcement from this blog or the Hiraeth Press website:

http://hiraethpress.com/sacred-reciprocity-courting-the-beloved-in-everday-life-now-available/

My deep gratitude for your presence...

Bear Medicine

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I saw you there in the

humid oak-poplar wood

of late summer morning.

Lanky young bruin

with perfect posture

and amble,

deftly trampling the

delicate ostrich ferns

with each

magnificent

pawfall

as you made your

way, intentfully

and agape,

up the rocky mountain slope.

I waited,

patiently,

like someone who had

just found an unyielding

faith in long-rumored miracles.

Your journey and my journey

will intersect this day.

“Bear medicine,”

some would say.

And we did have our moment.

Yes.

Standing still.

Fully aware of the other’s earthly presence.

Looking deeply into each other’s sight-full eyes.

Breathing each other’s privileged breath

in a way that even a poet shouldn’t

try to explain.

And, there, on sacred ground,

I couldn’t contemplate 'bear medicine.'

Couldn’t feel it tingling the hairs on my arms.

Couldn’t sense it transforming the course of my days.

Couldn’t bring myself to walk,

for even a second,

between the thin-veiled worlds.

No, no as we moved on from that moment,

You climbing Northwest,

Me climbing Southwest,

All I could think about was this:

What is human medicine to a bear?

What is human medicine to a bear?

Is it powerful?

Is it kind?

Does it leave you feeling grateful and graced?

Or, is it...?

Or, does it…?

This is what you left me with.

This question:

What is human medicine to a bear?

This question.

This question that has stilled me

in the dark silence of mySelf,

seeking the wisdom of thoughts

I’ve never before known.

Yes.

Yes...

Bear medicine.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in "Wild Life:New and Selected Poems" 

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The Eaglet

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser, wild harpy eagle chick (5 months old)

Note: Harpy eagles are critically endangered. There may

be as few as 50 nesting pairs remaining in the wild.

What if your nest

was a cathedral?

And, why isn’t it?

We all yearn for sanctuary

under the same tempest

skies.

Here I feel I should humbly

and somewhat awkwardly

confess,

I am human.

What would you think of that?

I wonder.

Do other species feel the

need to apologize for

inhabiting their own skin?

What has humanity granted

either one of us?

Thank you.

I have the answer in the way

you look at me:

“This moment,” you say.

“This moment.”

And it’s true.

It is in this moment that

we get to decide

who and what 
we want

to be.

It’s always in ‘this moment.’

The red mud feels cold and wet

as it hugs my right knee.

This I can do to honor you,

because I am human.

© 2012-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Wild Life: New and Selected Poems"