Tag: Poetry

Manifesting Universes

On By KristenIn Poetry, Spirituality2 Comments

We are each manifesting a universe, a potential brewing within ourselves
Packed into infinitely small space, moments from bursting
In an explosion of blinding light and matter ignited by the unbearable intermingling
Of deepest joy and deepest suffering, until our skin is torn apart and
Our innards are spread across the galaxy we’ve created in a great sigh of relief.
We birth a world held together by indescribable strength, force, intention, and release.
And then (because now moments and time exist) we stand aghast
Unbelieving at what we have just created
A complete world filled with our own pain, sorrow, joy, and bliss,
Swirling together into physical bodies that will play out these emotions in innumerable stories
Until one day, every last atom has experienced every possible variation of joy and sorrow,
And peacefully dissolves back into itself
Melts away once again into a potentiality, as if crawling back into a womb
Where everything and nothing already exists, has existed, and will exist,
And we already know all of it.
Until we forget again.

What Do You Do

On By KristenIn Life, Poetry, Spirituality2 Comments

I wrote this poem in response to the innate fear that often manifests when you are presented with an opportunity you’ve asked for, that you want deeply, but that you are terrified to accept. Perhaps because you are afraid to fail, afraid to change, afraid of making the wrong choice. How do you let go of that fear and embrace inner wisdom? I don’t profess to know the answer, but I’m contemplating it daily.

What do you do

When the universe grants your prayer?

Do you cower in fright

Like a child who fears the night?

Do silent, salty tears flow down your face

And consume your soul

Washing away any semblance of your past self?

Do you give in to the power

Of understanding and pure love

That you can’t imagine possibly exists

And leap into the flowing current

Against the judgement of your mind

Or the cautions of others?

Does your heart shrink into itself

Hiding beneath the thick layers it has built over years

Lifetimes

Like countless woolen blankets suffocating truth?

Does your mind pull you back into the past

With invisible bars and cold floors?

Or does your heart expand toward the light

The possibility

Of knowing itself in ways unimagined

Of swimming through fear and doubt?

Unsurely at first, cautious

But swiftly feeling the current lifting you up

Not pulling you under

As you give in to it, it gives back in turn to your supple movement.

Who were you, back then?

It doesn’t matter. You are here now, and each now is new.

Each drop is whole unto itself, but indistinguishable from all else.

Feel it.

Rip off the blankets. Dissolve the bars.

Dive.

Leave the heavy voices behind like unneeded layers cast off in the warmth of the sun.

Feel the light on your cheek

And melt into the joy of the light.

Thoughts in the Wind

On By KristenIn Ethics, Poetry, SpiritualityLeave a comment

A fierce wind rattles the window, forcing itself through invisible gaps into the room where I lay. I pull a blanket up further over my chest and listen to the gusts howl, and feel the errant drafts cross my cheek. Wind carries life and death with it, and life waiting to live. Minuscule seeds; insects; bacteria; viruses; all held aloft for miles and miles on their airborne journey in hopes of fertile ground.

I, on the other hand, am water. My veins transport fluids that also harbor life and death; life giving nutrients, dead cells to be disposed of. I feel heavy and uncoordinated. I yearn to flow and ooze into a mold that will unburden me, that will give me a shape so I can stop wondering what it is I am. But the liquid also cools my mind, and though my vision through it is hazy, it magnifies certain images so that I may examine them in all of their horrifying beautiful detail.

When the sun burns with its fire of life, its heat courses through my watery veins and reminds me that liquid has no shape; it is a shape-shifter. We have the magic to define who and what we want to be – if we can see beyond the illusory bounds that try to contain us. We are water people reliant on air, and fire, and earth too. Through our breath we bring in the knowledge of the universe, and through our feet we touch the wisdom of our own soul.

Fear is always easiest. It lives and breeds like damp moss on the underside of anger’s sharp rock. But a river flows freely across boulders and down deep ravines toward the sea without fear or anger. It flows with courage of self-knowledge. When it is no longer a river its energy still spreads and carries life and death, just as does the wind, and the soil.

It’s time to burn the lifeless shells within which we’ve hidden for lifetimes. The heat of creation is waiting for us to forge ourselves into vessels of peace and actualization. Will I let my ego evaporate with the beads of sweat on my brow? The fire may burn and scar, but we will be lighter for it, ready to scatter new seeds across the plains that will nourish those who come after us, if we are willing to tend to them. What will sprout from those seeds of intention?