rainbows
warm sunlight kisses all my tears and hurt away levitating rainbows
Tag: poetry
rain
my heart today has no words only rain
The above photo is of a short poem titled “rain” from a collection of poems I published last year. It’s designed to reflect both the way Japanese language is traditionally written—right to left and top to bottom—as well as the way rain itself falls.
After hearing of the recent tragic mass shooting of children at an elementary school in Texas, I’ve been searching for something to offer this world with its incomprehensible sorrows. Surely there could be even just a few words to lighten the burden, ease the pain, to bring some kind of solace… After all, my poetic raison d’être of sorts is: crafting stories for a more beautiful and gentle world. I intentionally seek to illuminate beauty, love and light, even in the midst of our suffering… particularly in light of suffering, in light of the shadows. Words are my gift to this world, the flower of my heart I offer upon the alter.
But in these past days of searching, words firmly elude me. The strength to pick up scattered shards of my heart, eludes me. My body breaks down when thoughts are senseless and prayers echo, empty—again. In this paralysis of humanity, the little children are dying. What words can possibly carry meaning now? And so I, empty-handed, crave the rain.
I crave the rain. Let it fall, in torrents. Tears for all the little children. May it flood, a river over embankments of ammunition…. ammunition forged in outdated weapon-making factories, and in the defenses of ideological identity and warfare. May it rain for seven days and seven nights straight so that even the most guarded among us will finally seek refuge in the arms of another. May the relentless downpour drown out delusions of grandeur and bring all the mighty gods to their knees. And in the very end, may all the little children delight in the puddles—splashing about and dancing—carefree. Rainbows overhead. In the very very end, may all the little children simply be—children.
your name
have you heard it before? the land as it whispers the voice of soft soil underneath soles—bared to the earth calling calling out your name in the wind in the wild wild wind and singing between canyon walls and among the tall and slender reeds, your name Come, come home — it says — into my arms stretched out open and wide, and into my heart. and i run i run right into this wild wind without resistance as these whispers of land and soft sacred soil singing sing straight into my heart and i run and run right into these waiting arms into this heart i run, i run and run and run i run home
nectar
do not try not for a moment, not a heartbeat not even for a second, split to resist even the multitudinous gods cannot and absolutely care not to resist The Sweetness Nectar nectar is honey on the tongue diaphanous light like diamonds underwater sparkling champagne for the immortals and libations for the hummingbirds and the butterflies wine, for the soul
epilogue two
i dance to breathe
and
breathe to dance
to fly
to fly
to my sun
i dance
in the light, and
on the light feather of the hawk
so swift so soft and so
f i e r c e
i fly
to my sun burning
on fire
burning brightly
and, oh so lightly
on these skins, these mountain skins
and i breathe
i breathe
i breathe to dance
dance to breathe
here
between heaven and
here
between heaven and this
earth
embodied
have you ever felt that? Earth—in your body, breathing... a sweet sigh, and then a swift intake what song does she sing passing through your skin your surface soft, light, and open dancing here under this boundless sky? to whom or to what absolute and singular love does she serenade?
The above “photo-poem” was made when I was still placing print on top of photos and unfortunately, I don’t have the original photo now. I also haven’t been able to recapture the same feeling—the same ineffable sensation of breathing—in another photo. But perhaps on some mysterious, sweet, and softly lit day, I will again find the perfect set of trees and sky, breathing.
Have you experienced something similar? A discovery of the world breathing through your body? Or your body breathing through the extended world around you? In this physically embodied realization of connection, we discover that we ourselves are love. Love itself. Nothing other than love. We discover oneness and totality, beauty and grace. Hózhó. An absolute and singular love.
Poesía
~purple dreams~
flickering in clouds
gold dust settles over these
hills
yawning and round
and drifts into the shadows, all purple
the dreams are sweet
like plums heavy on their branches bowing
ripe and full
with love
with honey
with the scent of your name
with your whispers
all tangled in my wind-tousled hair
and with this heart
with this body
my soul
like streams swollen after the storms in spring
rushes out into the open
into these unkept fields of golden dusk
and erupts into a riot of wildflowers, all purple
all yellow, white, pink, and
g o l d
京のコーヒー
Kyoto Coffee flowers startle white in the black night caffeine-steepedand camouflaged in e l e g a n c e i awaken all enchanted the wild blossoms are singing light into new day .
I wrote the original version of this poem about three years ago, after enjoying coffee in an elegant cup at a café in Kyoto. After a long talk with a good friend, the night was late and I cycled back to my small, secluded-away in a quiet and dimly-lit neighborhood near ancient temple grounds in Higashiyama, house. Along the way, I was startled to encounter these white flowers glowing out of the darkness—similar to the white flower on my black coffee cup just a short while earlier. What magic potion had I just consumed, I pondered, in the guise of an elegant Kyoto cup of coffee? Little did I know then, just how truly magical and extraordinary our worlds can be. And I was entirely guileless as to the adventure I’d unknowingly embarked upon. But here I am now, three years later, still traversing these caffeine-steeped nights of enchantment. And what has emerged? Worlds of poetry, beauty, magic, and a precious love—like no other.
So what it the moral of the story?
Surrender to the irrational demands of your heart and of beauty, to this wild world far too vast to be contained within the narrow confines of our minds. And something more magical than you could have ever dreamed of will welcome you, on the other side of night.
smile
your smile just for me more precious than all the stars in darkest of nights
さくらさくら sakura sakura
singing in pink light this crown of floating petals carries my heart home
What is it for you, which carries your heart back to your faraway home? Be it geographical or temporal distance? Have you ever felt that? That twinge? That pang in your heart when the great distance announces itself abruptly, with such eloquence? Suddenly, in a moment, you are both here and there. Or rather, simultaneously there and not there.
For me, it is sakura*—the cherry blossoms. Their delicate lightness acquiring a new sense of gravity in a home away from home. Bittersweetness, in full bloom. And so still, i dance under the trees of pink reverie; drunk with beauty. Here and There. Everywhere.
*While the chrysanthemum may be the national flower of Japan and the seal of the imperial family, sakura—the cherry blossom—is without doubt, the national “people’s flower” of Japan. When sakura blossom in spring, many people enjoy walks or picnics and parties under the soft canopies of pink petals. Many years ago (before the date which it was published), I wrote another blog post which illuminates the significance of sakura in Japan: https://michiruadrienne.com/2021/06/02/grace/
Michiru Adrienne 