We, the Flower

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A flower,
with no effort at all,
all day, and nothing else,
doing the work of
growing and rising,
coming into being,
listening to the very heart
of what moves us
to know when to open
her petals
and receive
golden sun,
when to curl inward
to take rest,
to enter a period
of receptivity and
healing.
This is the contemplation
of a flower,
her mechanism of hope,
her bearing witness
in rhythm and cycles,
her lesson,
each day,
in motion and stasis,
in sun and moon,
in the small deaths we make
in order to rise and
to live.
 
– TT
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We Are Gold: A Poem

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our gilded days
and we are –
an imperfect yet holy
refraction
caught in our desires
that come down to this:
to be whole
to be loved,
and the mistakes we make
in the way we cannot
recognize
that we are not what is
left over, incomplete,
searching,
no, we are a reflection,
illumined and pure,
of the vastest space
we can imagine,
and I envision this,
as I my eye catches the spark
of the sun glinting off
gold leaf
on sacred temple grounds:
I don’t have to transport myself
anywhere
for my transmutation.
I am here
with everything that is,
and I will stay here,
until I understand that
love seeps through me
the way the moon
bleeds her light into the sky,
unhindered, abundant,
limitless, moving mountains and seas
with nothing but
inner light.
– TS

For this Life (Gratitude)

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Bound by the earth and stars
Which is to say, alighted by the
Offering of full freedom
 
I walk along the shore
Guided by the soft and roaring
Motion of the ocean’s waves
 
I turn inward to find
What’s true, I blossom out
In turn, under moon’s wisdom
 
I wade through fields, awed
By the creatures I find there,
All this life generating life
 
I fall to the ground, wondrous,
Free, amazed by my presence
In all of this, my part to play,
 
As gratitude, not for the first time,
Fills me, and I vow: I will soak it in,
Lap it up, make use of precious time.
 
– TS

Shine Light on the World

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Life floods itself with life
but this is no drowning;
life will not be submerged.
 
The abundance can be
so difficult to grasp,
the infinite regeneration,
 
The peeking out from
winter’s dusky deep,
when from quiet readying,
 
From having burrowed
far, far down in the
ground of reckoning,
 
A budding into where
time dwells, governed by
phases of sun and moon,
 
And here it is again,
the thresholds surpassed,
the bounty pouring forth,
 
And it is as large as
dense forest trees
tumbling onto the road,
 
As magnanimous as
a mountain range hosting
the play of serpentine clouds,
 
As redemptive as grass
growing through the concrete,
going on and on and on,
 
And it is as small as
a cosmos being born
in the heart of one flower
 
The sacred lotus teaching:
how from murky depths, we
can shine light on the world. – TS

Woman, I hear You

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I hear you
I hear the tremors
of uncertainty stirring within you
i hear the terrors
that keep you up at night
i hear the lullabies
you sing to your restless children
long after their bedtime
I hear the spaces between
the beats of your aching heart
I also hear the spaces between
the beats of your twirling, dancing heart
I hear the echos of
all you have given to this world
I hear the squashing down
of your need and desire to receive
I hear the song that
escapes your lips when
you feel you need to be silent
I hear the whip of air as you
reach your arm out to your sisters
I hear the twist and squeeze
as you pull yourself in all the directions
I hear the questions
unasked and unanswered
I hear your hopes
for a new world order
I hear the sounds of the wild
as you lay yourself bare in the moonlight
I hear the time that is coming
I hear your power
I hear your readiness
I hear your love – TS