Light in the Dark

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We all see in the dark.
The future, I would think,
depends on how how soon we forget
our source in protection,
on how consumed we become
by what we find there,
and on the light we work
to cultivate inside of us
to create exquisite contours
where only shadows lived,
to see the dark
as the sculptor of the light,
knowing that as light fades,
so does the dark,
so that we can find our way
to the river of shades
and in betweens,
before night turns to day
but day seeps into the skin
like a brilliant tuft of cloud
winding around the mountain,
and no borders can thrive here,
and the vision is not clear
so we learn a new way to navigate
and in doing so, we breathe
a new world into being.

– Tammy Takahashi

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Coming to You

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The path is clear
at time, and others,
more obscured,
the sky reaching back
so that the clouds
are harder to talk to,
the trails filled with
the thistles and brambles
of years of wild living,
and before long,
I stop thinking
about how I landed here,
because my hands
know how to protect me
and my feet
know where to go,
and my heart knows
how to be quiet,
and even how
I got here,
and I now that
all this time,
no matter how long
it takes,
I have been coming
to you.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

The Pathway of Life

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There is a road
That winds all the way
from lands before your birth,
along the pathways of your life,
until times as yet unseen.
It is beautiful on all sides,
and dark, and terrible too,
where we stand, forgetting,
on the other side of the light.
From the earth’s vital force
coursing up your limbs
from the soles of your feet,
the road travels up
to your sacred center of gravity,
into the sinewy trails of muscle
holding stories of your life
along the solid, stoic spine
that, as you walk, will not bend,
stoop or fall, despite the ache,
knowing how far there is to go,
and how much there is to carry.
The road travels up, lies ahead,
but we must not get caught
in the game of directions.
It is enough to see that the map
we have set for ourselves to follow
has its mirror in our selves,
and that hold love for one
while forsaking the other
is to remove the dimensions,
and forego our possible destinations.
May we aim to infuse all the pathways
with the love that will ignite them.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

Heed the Call

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The direction is not always clear,
obscured as it can remain from us,
as long as we march ahead, thick as fire,
on the same path that brought us here.
Here, with confusions, mumblings why,
various shades of unease, their shadows.
How much do we end up leaving behind
in our seething convictions of where
we must go? How much of the unseen
remains just outside the realm of our
possibilities? Let us fight for our choices,
Dare to expand the view, heeding the call
of the inner voice that tells us, there is
a symphony of voices needing to be heard,
for our very lives, for my need to hear you,
for you to hear me. To honour both. To
cherish all. To find our mothers and fathers,
brothers and sisters, in every single thing
that breathes, as they step into the seen,
and we find each other, and we take
the steps that feed our very creation.
 
– Tammy Takahashi

The Road

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There is never only one thing
left to do to say, we know this,
and yet, we might come to a
time when the roads we have
taken and that are still to come do
not glimmer with the possibility
they once did, or rather, this
light promises itself for another
day, another time. The roads
are not closed, but we find we
have diverged from them, or
have had them wrested from us,
and this is not only happenstance,
or only the choices we’ve made;
these are the conditions of life.
The roads weave through the
remembrances of our bare,
wild and roaming feet; the roads
call to us in the bell towers of
our dreams; they are the webbed
and interlacing tapestries of
our own ability to make sense of
how life is. We do not take
them to their storied endings;
we know better than that. We
hold them close, dot them with
sacred trees and mystical
encounters, and find our way
there. And know that there is no
road we will find together; and
no road we will ever take alone.
 
– TT

A Place With No Name

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The word spirit moves me

Around worlds and back,

Tickles me in all the right places,

Takes me on a journey with

Fairies, fables and everything

I’m still training my heart to see.

 

But, that word, spirituality,

It does not roll off the tongue,

And causes no small confusion.

Is it spiritual to see forever

In a tide retreating to the horizon,

To want to sit under a tree

And learn its ancient wisdoms?

 

Do we need a name for the way

We edge forward step by step,

Trying as best we can to know

A love so vast and deep it makes

Flower buds swell and birds soar,

And brings together even the most

Disparate and lonely among us?

 

Take me on a path that has no name,

Teach me to sing from my belly

And to dance fierce and reckless,

Show me the space between two stars

And help me forget that I am striving,

And let us dip into the deepest waters,

And know beyond knowing that we live.