My pain
is really my friend It reminds me to readjust. It reminds me to be upright To find my sit bones, And move
from my center.
It
reminds me to listen To my breathing, my feelings To pay closer attention.
My pain is my friend, It warns me of danger, It
makes me slow down, And modify my behavior. I have lived a rich life.
I have lived it so fully. I have made some mistakes. I
have hurt myself. I forgive myself. I am also willing to forgive Those who hurt me. I think
that I have done so, Then The pain takes me deeper. And I have to let go. Again.
This is a good thing. This is compassion. I thank
all the world For being my teacher. And I thank all my teachers For being in the world.
I stuck
the Virgin in the dirt today She was Moms cracked Madonna I cut my hand on her china skirt fray Porcelain, tears
and earth her fate.
My mother died, that is whats real Mother of Eight standing at the gate.
My hand is bleeding
and it stings The garden awaits her ashes The great One smiles and I feel Her flames I listen for Her voice and heat
flashes. I hear the wind and the chirp of robins.
And my day, my life my blood flows on, Realizing Death In
all its starkness Awaits us all. While the birds sing and the flowers shimmer My heart throbs quietly with the deeper
pulses of the earth.
Ashes await my sprinkling hand My mother will rejoin the land As she hands me over to the
Ancient One, Crone so welcome to me. Mother you hand me over, Mother to mother your place in the family tree I
bow. I am yours, Mother Mom Mother Crone I become Closer To your embrace.
-May 8, 1999
Walk
in Holly Park
(Written in Bernal Heights, San Francisco)
Today
the light so diminished into darkness,
I knew I witnessed Fall gently slipping into Winter