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)

The Woodcock's Courtship

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

“Peent!” “Peent!”

says he recently returned.

First near, then far,

then near again.

“Peent!” “Peent!”

Is his soul fickle?

This audible advance and retreat,

advance and retreat.

No.

In the misty dusk air he circles.

With his feathered body,

he recites the ancient spiral dance

known to all mystics,

He announces the auspicious Truth

of who he is.

Suddenly the Cosmos calls him skyward

and he casts himself into the heavens.

Up he launches in body and soul,

outward and inward.

Rising.

He twitters in the winged voice of ecstasy,

a cascade of emotions released so emphatically

that they collide upon utterance.

His heart becomes frantic as he circles

a hundred meters arisen

above bog or meadow or powerline cut.

Twittering.

Twittering.

The heart must expand or explode.

The heart must expand or explode.

And then, at climax, he chirps.

He chirps a loud vocal, urgent “Yes!” chirp,

signifying his acceptance of

the holy duties of embodiment.

More vocal chirps amidst twittering.

And more.

His heart has expanded beyond reason.

Oh, take note:

The descent that follows is no defiance

of The Great Spirit.

It is instead acknowledgment.

Acknowledgment of his willingness

to pledge himself in service

Of the Great Mother.

Of Creation.

Of Eternity.

Of the destined union of God and Goddess.

Where he lands,

She awaits,

Ready to play Her part.

Ready, like he, to give the Spirits an intimate

flesh form through which to dance

and merge.

“Peent!” “Peent!”

© 2009-2012/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in Written River Summer Volume 1 (2): 25-26. See Hiraeth Press: http://www.hiraethpress.com

----

When woodcocks return from migration in the spring

the males perform an elaborate, aerial courtship dance.

The twittering sound is not a vocalization, but a sound

produced by a special feather in their wings.

Courageous Vulnerability

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser,
bleeding heart in the snow

I want for you

courageous vulnerability.

Please sit for awhile and listen

to the ferocious whisperings

of my heart, and yours.

How can it be so frightening

to tenderly touch below this skin

which cloaks us so temporarily?

I once came face to face with a mystic

who taught me to cascade love

through our eyes

on the wavelength of intent.

It was simultaneously

terrifying

and rapturous.

Nothing has appeared dull since.

I want this for you…

this endless intimate gaze and glint.

I want for you the conviction

of a firm and open stance –

to be a heart warrior

who welcomes the piercing

of Life’s blade

at the hands of the Beloved.

May you be met in your bloodletting

by those who

know what it is to

surrender victoriously.

I want this for you.

This, and nothing else,

is the full celebration of

our humanity.

© 2011-2018/Jamie K. Reaser

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

Feel free to share

The Price

Image: found at -http://whatmind.blogspot.com

The Shadow Man said:

"Bind yourself to me
and in exchange for the abuses
I will inflict upon you,

I shall give you jewels."

Her mind's eye wandered
over memories
and across future landscapes.

Her blood cells shook in
their recollected knowing
and anticipation.

Her ears filled with the voices
that had always secretly paid her way
on the currency of

Fear,

Worthlessness,

and Duty.

But,
finally,

finally
her heart had grown
big and strong enough through
the years of suffering
that it was able to embrace her
in her entirety with compassion
and a warrior's fortitude.

"No,"
she said,

Declaring herSelf
priceless.

And though she knew
the consequences would
lead to a death of sorts,

She could,
for the first time
since her first birth,

See the guardian angels
at her side.


(c) 2011-2013/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out." (www.hiraethpress.com)

The Puppet Master

Image: Panneau marionette

Up and down.
In and out.
Left and right.
Teeter totter.

For how long have you
been self-employed as the
Puppet Master
of your universe?

There are so many strings
attached,
so many knots
and frayed edges
to evidence your frenetic
addiction to Control.

Haven't you noticed? -
all of the puppets
have worn thin and
will no longer serve you.

Parts of you have gone on strike.

Some of them resigned.

A few got up and left.
People too.

It is time to put down
the devices of
manipulation.

The life your insecurities
have been animating
is an illusion
and the script lacks
imagination.

Sit in the audience for awhile
and watch the acts
of the past play out
in the stage lights.

Your need for control dramas
will cease
when you realize
the identity of
the missing performer.

Do you See it...?

When your heart was absent,
you devised strings
and yanked and pulled.

When you sensed the Other's
heart was absent,
you devised strings
and yanked and pulled.

Oh my silly human -
Could you just relax
and surrender
into the open arms of
the Universe?

Authentic Love
is untethered.

(c) 2011-13/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

Courting the Viper

Baba Gulabgir I pray to you:

teach me the magic

of the serpent pot.

The vipers they rise

swaying with lies and manipulations

on muscular stalk,

fastening cold black eyes

on me.

Practiced strikes land upon my flesh

and eat into my soul.

Necroses and bloodletting

commence

as scarlet

pairs of liquid beads -

Droplets of my precious

personed being.

The Wounded One screams

in pain as the toxins circulate

and madden.

Though sitting on my cushion,

I am unsettled by rage

and visions

of retaliatory get-evenings.

Will the body still

writhe when severed

from the head?

I struggle to find my way

out of conflict with

integrity –

but like a rodent that is

already halfway down

the elongated stomach.

No.

I cannot, will not,

embrace a peace

that is declared

by my willing victimhood.

Patiently waiting for me to finally

take a breath,

the Guru gently says:

“Lift your flute.

Play.

Court the venomous snakes

with Life’s most

rapturous music.

Dear One,

It is the alchemy of love

that transforms poison

into medicine.”

© 2011-2013/Jamie K. Reaser

Published in "Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out" (www.hiraethpress.com)

The Candle Snuffers

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Be-aware of the Candle Snuffers:

those who wish to diminish,

even eliminate,

your essential flame.

In your presence

their form casts a Shadow

that just might scare them to

your death.

The more they struggle

at the sight of it,

the more it dances

wildly,

erotically,

untamed

and full of dangerous potentiality

on the

Wall of their Psyche.

Primal fears emerge

and are given false-life

like saber-tooth terrors

that flicker into action

before cave-dwellers' eyes.

You have done nothing wrong

by shining.

Please hear me when I say this:

“You have done nothing wrong

by shining.”

Beautiful and bright,

Your light is what evokes awe

in the stars

when they gaze upon this Earth.

You mustn’t rob the galaxy

of the pleasure that it

takes in you!

Dearest Light of the World,

Do not surrender even a

nascent spark to

the oppressive forces

that they wish to

bring down upon

you -

Burn.

Burn.

Burn the holiest of fires…

Pledge your allegiance to

the sound of your breath,

breathing so deeply that

you fuel the fire that burns

within your heart.

The fire that burns

within your heart…

Love.

Lovingly offer the Candle Snuffers

in your life

the sacred flint and tinder

of Mirror and Council,

inviting them to recognize

their own true flame.

There is an eager,

capable wick,

in all of us -

Dignity.

Oh my Flame of Unity,

If you have befriended your

own Shadow,

then in the presence of

their Light,

the only form that shall be

cast is that of

Understanding and Kinship.

The time is coming in which

Homo illuminatus

will finally learn to

to pass

the torch.

© 2011-2013/Jamie K. Reaser (Published in Note to Self: Poems for Changing the World from the Inside Out; Hiraeth Press, http://www.hiraethpress.com)