Rain Magnet

She lay on her back looking at the sky,
relaxed and concentrating,
melting into the earth and feeling
everything everything in it.

Overhead the clouds came from every direction,
slowly at first,
collecting in great puffy masses,
condensing as their numbers increased,
whirling together in
mottled expectation.

The sky faded to gray,
darkened further as the atmosphere
blotted out the sun.
A few blessed drops
struck the dust of the desert,
created ripples on the surface of the parched earth,

And then the rain came down in torrents,
soaking her hair
and her face
and her clothes.

***

It wasn't imperious,
this coming together,
this gathering.

It wasn't controlling.

It was simply what was:
natural.

Tiring,
to be a magnet
for the rain!
Invigorating!

And open, not hiding,
but not broadcasting either,
because people are afraid
of what they don't understand,

and that wasn't the point,
to make them afraid.

Or to be revered for some strange power,
because it wasn't strange:
it was only
what was.

It wasn't like
gathering the clouds in her arms:
How could anyone gather clouds that
didn't want to be together?

But it was rather like creating a space in herself,
letting herself open to attract the clouds
with the intensity,
like a magnet.

Trusting.

Bull Dreamin'

I woke from a dream
and, in waking,
Was in a dream.

I was 5, and near me
a great Bull,
with horns,
and a gleam in his eye,
stood in the courtyard.

I walked up to him,
and held out my hand,

as if it held a lump of sugar.

A golden ring
pierced his substantial nose.

He nudged my small fingers.

And I awoke.

Mt. Tam (revised Oct 2009)

There has been ceremony here;
I feel it in these medicine stones.
Every atom vibrates with ancient knowing.

The peace eagles make it pure,
But the song rings through the air
just as it did
The day I was born.

There is ceremony here;
My song, my people, my privilege.
Peering at family who've carried the wisdom
of beauty and celebration -
Circled through space to let me through the door.

My infinite privilege to know your presence.

Even my courage to let you in -
and out and in like tidal waves
in my teeming universe -
Comes from the wonderment
I've caught in glimpses.

My longing overrides my fear.

I prey to be devoured by your grace.

Part Three: The Red Road (Vsn 2, Oct 2009)

Part Three: The Red Road

Path of Heart,
of Connection;
Ribbon of blood, sweat, and tears,
each Red Road
One Path of fulfillment

(and unique).

Love
and Gratitude
and
Red Road.
Gratitude.

Within you,
you carry
seeds of
unique greatness.
Your Red Road.

There's an irony:
you have to be grateful
for you don't even know
what; but gratitude
is key.

Many have known
Love has no room for
other. Not to choose love
is to be swallowed by a Void
of Pettiness, and isolation.

With love,
may we be grateful to serve.
With love,
may we fuel the fire
within.

Your Fire
opens
your deepest treasures.
That Fire
is
your Red Road.

Find that fire,
and Unlock those
seeds of greatness.
Find the fire within you, and
bring that fire to the people.

The Red Road is
narrow;
the path of the Heart
is specific.
You know
when you are on the path.

And you know
when you are not.

Sacrifice your ego, and
your Heart will lead you
to
treasures
only you can find.

I know these things to be true:
Your Fire is needed.
Answer the call to greatness,
and let your Heart
lead you to riches.

Storm Comin'

Shadows move;
gusty winds
show
Treetops,
usually not seen,
dancing on asphalt –
clear as night.

Equinox Yin & Yang

My craft is writing.
My medicine is poetry.

My craft is gardening.
My medicine, connection with the earth.

My craft is yoga.
My medicine is celebration.

My craft is smudge.
My medicine is freedom.

My name is Eve, and
My name is Dancing Hawk.

My medicine is all of these things, and
My crafts are my expression.

May my worlds be not separate;
May my worlds be one.
May my medicine heal the people; and
May my internal drives
inform my
external expressions.
May I find balance in all these things.

Aho, Mataquiesen.
(I Celebrate, And for All My Connections.)

Gatekeepers of the Red Road

(For Scott and Mike, who believe in the power of dreams, and listen without judgment and with great insight. Thank you!)

The canyon was Red rock
High sides
Dusty, dry,
and Narrow

And the Buddha was Gold,
Wrapped with a
Rattlesnake
Coiled up, ready for action.

At the left of the path, along the wall,
He sat laughing and Immovable.

At the right, a Frog sat, on a Scarab,
Copper tones,
greens and blues,
petrified, ancient ... also, Immovable.

The Path sits in shadows,
while the Gatekeepers sit in light.
The time ... unknown, eternal ...
the red road leading

To a land

I have not yet seen.