there is nothing in my life
except plants,
and books,
and music,
and friends,
and my faults,
and kindness
and love

The warp and the weft.
Trying to brew a poem,
but it eludes me.

the stone on my bedside table
given to me to remember,
my mindfulness course.
Sits amongst the detritus of my life.
A tiny object,
easy to overlook,
amidst the sediment of life.
For me, it is heavy with significance.
If I died this moment,
like so many treasures,
out it would go
to the tip.
A poem, a letter, a sweet wrapper
given to me by Blue.
Trash.
Objects
Diamonds
Trash.
Dust
letter by letter
I fall away
a sinking stone
that skipped across the water.
A smile,
A sweet wrapper,
A stone.

I cried for a person I never met
the husband of the first man I ever kissed.
He is gone and I feel bereft.
My friend, my friend
your loss like the ocean
your loss like the sea
how vast and restless

I listened to a song
and the tears just flowed.
The injustice and the pain.
You live in another country
and I wonder where will be your home
Now
My friend, my friend

abseil into the darkness
to face my mind and be alone with it -
supported by a thin rope -
I dangle in the cave of my thoughts -
alone inside my skull -
I focus on my breath -
I try to remember my practice -
I let go -
I am alive
in the here and now

I do not fly
I do not fall
I am held by the air moving in and out of my lungs
I am held by the days and days of practice
I am held by the teaching of the masters - generations upon generations
Buddhas and sadhus
Men and women hold me with their wisdom
the wild mind may settle
or may not
I may sense the lotus
or I may not
I hang by a rope
an alarm sounds
Eyes open
the blue sky and clouds

I once planned to commit suicide by hanging myself -
I gave the rope away
and now I have nothing but the air moving in and out
a different kind of hope
it holds me

good morning
the day is beautiful
full of cool and peace
before global warming sets it on fire

I told the sky and the sea
my secrets
but they whispered them to the wind