Tag: poetry
light entwined with love
i came here
i did not come here just to love you
i came here
to be love
together with you
to dance
and in one another
come home
breathlessly with these deep sighing waves
eternally and endlessly
like stars
i came here
to be together with you
in love
portal
this body
sacred
holy
a temple
something divine
divinity itself
its beating heart
portal
to the universe
yes, to the universe and beyond…
but most of all
a portal to
l o v e
let the doors wide open now
throw away the key
f l y
moonrise
in silence i am
on this full lotus sitting
the new moon rises
Once upon a long, long time ago when I was stretching and working out a lot, I discovered almost by accident that I could sit in the full lotus pose. Up until then I had managed a half lotus pose without too much difficulty, but that pretzel of a full lotus pose had always eluded me. And to be honest, I didn’t particularly have my heart set on sitting full lotus. Yoga was a form of cross-training for dance, not spiritual nor meditation practice, for me. But, have you ever sat in full-lotus?!
In full lotus, I instantly realized why it was the meditator’s pose of choice. I was stable, rooted, and still. Silence came naturally, like breathing, and all the world was unperturbed. From this rock-like seat, everything else was light. Eureka! I felt like shouting out loud! This is why the yogis work so hard for years twisting and turning, bending and coaxing their bodies into a pretzel—they can finally sit still!🤣
The value of stillness and silence deepens over time and with age, particularly when we struggle. And now, all these years later, my body craves full lotus. Not by accident, but with acute awareness. My heart is now set on its world of light, and of grace. Maybe it is not too late to rise anew, like the moon.
PINX
What are you? They ask.
A pink flower, i declare.
And darkness dancing
into light waves of seashore.
Jaguar’s soft skin, and heartbeat.
(tanka 5-7-5-7-7)
My cat passed away on March 28th, and on April 5th her ashes were returned to me in a small wooden urn engraved with unfurling flowers. When the man from the pet cremation company whose daughter’s name is Kimiko, close to but not Himiko, came to pick up my cat, I was told that her ashes would be returned sometime Monday through Friday, probably in the morning. Wednesday evening while still at work, I received a phone call from the man who, in his own words, was returning all the fur-babies back to their people. Albeit in ashes. Yes, I can be home later at night to receive my fur-baby’s ashes, I told him.
Cycling back to the house, I saw the bright and likely full moon, and thought to myself that it was just like Himichan to come back to me on a full moon. And she did. Back home I checked the internet and confirmed that yes indeed, it was a full moon night—and not just any full moon night either. It was the pink full moon!
My first name is written with the kanji 満 (michiru), but when it is combined with the kanji for moon月 like this 満月 it is read all together as “mangetsu” meaning, full moon. I have always loved the moon, particularly the full moon. The night before I was born, my mother heard Beethoven’s moonlight sonata playing even though the music was not actually playing anywhere. The first haiku in Japanese that I ever wrote describes the full moon whispering over the sea in spring.
Even so, I had never heard of the pink moon before! According to timeanddate.com, April’s full moon is called the “pink moon” due to the abundance of pink wildflowers blooming in spring! And it’s true, there are pink flowers blossoming everywhere. And I think about my fur-baby Himichan every time I see them.
When I was a little girl, I adamantly disliked the color pink for its association with girlishness. Therefore, strawberry ice cream was not my favorite flavor; and part of my decision to give up ballet for gymnastics was my distaste for pink tights and leotards. Very sensible, I know. But many years later as an adult, I reclaimed pink. The rebellion was over. On the contrary, embracing pink became the revolution; I like strawberry ice cream and I wear pink. The poem at the top of this page, written several years ago, is a womanifesto of sorts. I am pink—with edge. I am pinx.
That night, that night of the pink full moon, that night my Himichan’s ashes were returned to me. I cried. Bittersweet. Too much magic and much too beautiful. My heart flooded with gratitude and pink moonlight. I crave jaguar’s soft skin, and heartbeat.
I love you, Himichan, to the moon and back.
This too, came to me with its own magic and synchronicity.
🖤🌕🌸🐾💞
forty seven
Photo: spiral galaxy NGC 1232, from European Southern Observatory
somewhere, some
forty seven layers down into the center
of earth
and somewhere, another
forty seven layers into the center
of the universe
we walk
hand in hand we walk
beneath the seabed
and along smoldering crevices
these ancient lungs breathing long rivers of fire
in the darkness
we walk on and on
all along these meandering trails
through tall fields of sunlight and pink wildflowers
we step into streams of cold crystal water
smooth around our ankles and cupped hands
and on top of these snow-covered mountain peaks
we walk
where the soaring blue sky is pierced
with song, and with long silver threads of one thousand swans
who like us, fly home
through layer after layer
on and on and into the jet black ink of night, we walk
holding hands here in this deep space brimming with bejeweled skies
we’re swirling and spiraling and dancing
we spin
we, spin and
we spin
our house of love
flowering
my Love is more
than even the wildest wild rose
an unrestrained, and
captivating beauty—the rarest
flower
tumbling up into the sky, and freer
than the swiftest starling
but still, this singular flower is
rooted
firmly, deeply, ever inextricably
in this soil
in this rich and moist and black
soil,
rooted ever so deeply inside
this deep deep love
flowering
sounding board
Have you felt that too? Not singing, but being sung by the world? Body as sounding board for the swirling elements of air, water, light, and, soft soil? Like mist, song emerging from the slow steps and soft contours of a dance… each and every cell connected to wind and white feathers in flight?
One day, while practicing fue (a kind of traditional Japanese flute) and singing by the Kamo River in Kyoto, I felt that… that sensation of being saturated by the mist and the light. By wind and by love.
The photograph above was taken then, when I felt that. It’s not a particularly striking nor clear picture, but somehow it captured some airborne shimmering light, sparkles, and an egret… Somehow it captures something like being saturated by the light and the mist… something like being a sounding board for the world.
weather
we can weather
any change of sky
when we stay
{you & i}
together
🖤
Michiru Adrienne 