Stars and Shadow

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Soft
enchantress of day
casting her shadows,
gentle, fluttering,
as though to ease us
into the specter of night,
where shadow is subsumed
by the Great Dark,
and we sit in this for a time,
and the stars appear,
teaching us not
through the language of shadow,
teaching us, maybe not
at all, instead,
rewarding our tired eyes
and aching hearts
with a sea of
nocturnal
possibility.

– TT

 

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The Heart of Us

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Our hearts might
have gone to
the moon and back
 
Danced in the light
and free forming
weaves of space,
 
Tied their strings
around the fiery
light of the stars
 
In hopes of some
gentle guidance back
on savage lands,
 
Where dreams that
so scent the night
give way, cruelly even,
 
To what the morning
brings, and we lose
time, even, for shadows.
 
Yet all the while it’s
going on, this tapestry
that is our home,
 
The butterflies teaching
us about fragility and
change at the very
 
Tip of our noses,
the birds that rest and
land and take formation.
 
The trees, always the
trees, with the rocks and
the slippery slopes of moss,
 
And they are not secrets,
even as roots grow inch
by inch below the ground,
 
Reaching our for each other
To make sure each one
is fed, nourished, whole.
 
They are not secrets. They
are the gem inside the fruit,
waiting and regenerative.
 
Doesn’t it sound like our
hearts, beating inside of us,
wherever we go? – TS

Sun Moon Stars

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Of our fairest stars
glowing in the night
hinting at the beauty
of our mysteries,
 
Of the orange sun
burning its passions
like embers, falling
to our awakened skin,
 
Of moon above,
watchful and serene,
her rounded fullness
our gift, our invitation,
 
Of we the people
bare feet to ground,
hands to heart,
eyes gazing upward. – TS

Poem: If I Were Among the Stars

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If I were among the stars

Beaming faint across the

The galaxies, sharing

Secrets about ancient Time,

Caressing hearts away

From earthly burdens …

If I could sit among my

Star friends, holding hands,

Singing quietly in light-bathed

Night, weaving dreams from dust,

Hope from the hard stories …

Among the stars

Luminescence reigns,

Within their sparkle

We heal

In wordless song.

Stars streak the night

But know nothing of darkness,

Like the sun, which does not

Witness its own miracles.

I peer into the world

Emptied of form.

My job is to first to be,

Then to learn, and know.

My knowledge needs

No formulation.

I in the Universe.

Tammy T. Stone

Tammy T. Stone

 

Who am I, and what is the universe?

With some training, I’ve learned that I can see illness, health and all the happinesses with a quick scan of a body part, because everything large is contained in everything small, once you start looking.

Look closely, examine the little details for a grand portrait. And the other way around? I know I am contained in the universe, but where can I see it, see me? I can only look within; as of yet, I don’t know how to see my imprint in the stars.

I just have to believe it’s there because I know that I am here.

I feel this. Things move through me that leave me wondering and sometimes so confused. Lately it’s somewhere in the middle. I am in between things. Maybe a shift is taking place. The things that used to confuse me have either disappeared or else I’ve become adept at living around these confusions.

Not because they don’t matter, but for the simple fact that they don’t cling to me anymore, leaving me free to live in a world without their strong presence.

At the same time, some of the great passions are gone too. I’m not sure what I need to create, or talk to people about. When I used to feel this way, depression was near, like a shadow. Now, there’s a feeling of peace.

Still, uneasiness lingers. I believe that to live a long and full life, passion is necessary. Purpose is necessary. Maybe that’s what these travels have been about: looking past my familiar archive of me-ness, and up to the stars.

Up there I can be a part of something other than myself. I can look up and my gaze can be reflected anywhere, and if I don’t think too much, I can find the reflection of that gaze and follow it to where I need to be.

Every day I can hear my heart sing a little more. I can listen to music and feel parts of my body vibrating. It makes me want to tell my mind that while I have depended on it so much, I need to let it go. It has convinced me that there is illness where there is health.

It has allowed me to indulge in sadness when joy is the obvious state of things. It tells me again and again what I should not be doing when all there is to do in this world is to be free. I almost understand this.

I almost accept that the rain and the sun come at surprising moments here on the island, in beautiful southern Thailand, and that whichever one comes is perfect.

Then, when I look at my tongue or my palm, and see lines and cracks and marks, I can also see the pureness in canvas on which they lie.

 

*This was first published in Rebelle Society, here.