My mother loved poetry
It talks to the heart
and can offer the ephemeral insight that the moment requires.
a poem for you by Maria Eugenia Baz Ferreira

To all that is brief and fragile
superficial, unstable,
To all that lacks foundation
argument or principles;
To all that is light,
fleeting, changing, finite
To smoke spirals,
wand roses,
To sea foam
and mists of oblivion…
To all that is light in weight
for itinerants
on this transient earth
Somber, raving
with transitory words
and vaporous bubbly wines
I toast
in breakable glasses.

Now you will feel no rain
For each of us will be shelter for the other
Now we will feel no cold
for each of us will be warmth for the other
Now there will be no more loneliness
for each of us will be companion to the other
There is only one life before us
and our seasons will be long and good.

Love Sally an Apache Blessing

Gran Dama Rio with your big blue skirt
Thank you for making love with the soil
Lead me to the river beneath the river
Because like you I must flow outward and continuously
On my own creative path.

Dearest Mother Mine, as you journey beyond me
I promise to stay true. I love you with all my heart.
And it’s International Women’s Day
We are the ones, no more waiting, bring it through.
I love you, Sally

Oh Nobel One,
You have become lazy, drawn to the dull light.
Lucky for you a fierce angel
Has come to guide you to the very bright light.
( from the Tibetan Book of the Dead)

So while we are living.
Let us become acquainted  with these fierce agents of change and goodwill
Frightening us to our core.

This is good practice

In the dream, in the dream, in the dream

 

We are not alone on our unwanted Journey,
Look who is holding you!

Resupplying  the infinite, the basket is full.

Hello 2016  xxxxoooo Sally

Waiting on the Lord

Doesn’t mean five minutes,

The moss grows on my legs

and a goat hair  grows so long , it becomes a ladder

Down to the sea.

Perhaps the Lord will climb up

And share his bucket of oysters and beer.

Waiting on the Lord

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The birthing / slaying feminine face of God

reminds us to breath into the “what is”

Relaxing against her ample breast

Whispering,I love you too.

The moment just presented itself

And she took it.

A woman who is ready to make a decisive move

Can stir the sea with a single hair.

It’s Lady Godiva Day!

Joseph Campbell reflected that Jesus’ last week of life was a metaphor

that we can apply to what occurs in our own lives.

Are we riding victorious into the city, are we partying with friends,

Are we being betrayed and then crucified?

Or are we entering a new life, having come through the ordeal?

But the best metaphor of all

Is in those moments we are being nailed, inwardly or outwardly

Up on the cross, can we also hold love fully like he did?

Making a new universe,

One in which we always win.

Old habits are demons of the fiercest sort,

Tugging, whining, whispering of past associations

Links to what is actually over.

If I don’t reinvest,

The pain diminishes quickly

And  we are integrated once again

The dark and the light of me.

This is true confidence.