© 2018 by Art Form Yoga. 

MUSINGs 

"Navitri" (2017)

Unmistakable love. 
Unbreakable, unshakable love. 
Hot, liquid molten magma love 
oozing into corners of my heavy heart.
Ecstatic, ethereal thumps 
entwine our bodies into one.
Warm embrace 
Encompassing all of our true nature.
Rooted into the sandy banks 
of Mother Earth. 
Shakti, goddess slowly giving birth 
to love that unfolds slowly,
deeply, running wild 
with the river's current.
Light body baptism,
our holiness is revealed. 
Basking in the warmth 
of the orange sacral glow. 
Magnetic pull
inward, deeper. 
Here. Right. Now. 
Diving into the moment.

"He: A Gift from God" (2018)

 

Forgive me if I poke and prod
At tender places 
Bruised and battered spaces
That you have silenced 
And forgotten 
I see right through 
I hear your wounds 
With a throbbing voice,
They demand to be heard

I listen 
Not to dissect or discern
But to allow them their turn
To feel 
To heal
I’ll remind you just how real
& alive & vulnerable you are 
Love lingers in touch
Love heals in moments of trust 
When you let love in 
Like breath to your lungs 
When you gasp & shudder & moan & cry & you’re questioning 
whether to live or die

Remember 
Love lives here 
It has always lived here
It is always right here

It is only you
That has forgotten

"Frida Mullein Pour" (2017)

 

Death, I salute you as you creep in slowly, consuming the illusions. 
Gnawing. Gnashing. 
Grinding teeth to bone. 
Pick me clean. Unveil me, Whole. 
I return to Her, blanket of flesh to stone. 
I decompose. 
I melt with the snow, absorbed as fluid winters. 
What am I now, 
but one beat upon the earth’s drum? 
One rhythm in the recital of Her grand, vernal hymn. 
Underneath. 
Within the warm earth, 
life thrives in rich, black dirt. 
I am a seed & I am full of vibrant dreams of Life above the soil. 

"Grand Mere" (2018)

sitz bones to sand - 
glittering fragments of stone 
compose the throne 
on which my body-home resides

Inside, 
I delve within my mind 
To the stories, the times
These dunes were climbed

Each crystalline quartz point
a shimmering mirror
A looking glass portal to past & future

The present rings in rustles of 
rust-colored leaves
Whispers sing in ochre leeds
Their slender forms respond
In rhythmic wind-blown dance 
I stand,
surveying the empty beach
waves lapping, calling,
They beckon to me,
“Come home...” 

The Lady of the Lake smiles from underneath. 
Dwelling in the Cave of Jewels
How deep?
How deep...