My Peace Anthem Today

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Sometimes life
is just one big plush
nearly impossible blend of
gorgeous sunset hues, yellow too,
gathered not like armies but like trees,
not like missiles but like bamboo shoots,
not like things imprisoned but connected,
not signatures of doom but of wonder,
ready, haven’t we always known it,
to get fire, to be our fire,
to get lit.
 
– tt
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On Remembering Who We Are.

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Maybe you are tired (you are not alone).
The brightness, the lighness of step
receded, past resistance, to memory.
It’s been like this maybe for years;
you’ve stopped just shy of wondering
what happens between the early years
of boundless joy and laughter, and now,
and why and how and by whose design
we’ve come to decide on a version of life
less saturated, sparkling and true.

But something stirs. It is inside you,
a gem that cannot be buried long.
It pulses, takes you on the first steps
of a journey you could not have known.
There you are, as if grace itself appeared
to lift the veil, and so you do. And see,
you are standing, has it always been like this?
On the lost wing of stunning remains:
a one-winged butterfly, larger than any legend,
resting for awhile on a mount only rising.

-tt

Sacred Geometry

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We take what is holy
and make it again, and more,
lighting it with our recognition,
creating glory with the simple act
of seeing new, seeing again.
And it is not just what we see
that makes us laugh and dance,
but we who are seeing,
the untold, hundredfold ways
we have arrived here, now,
to notice magic with our own.
And so we weave, chant,
imbue the ever-changing world
with all the things we’ve learned
and have carried in our blood,
and it is more than we ever knew,
and we are finally ready, and bold,
and spin a new colour from gold,
to lay it like a wreath
on what is already felt complete
but will always sustain
our heartened and earnest more.

Welcome to your Garden

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Welcome to the garden of your life.
It’s so pretty here, if you find yourself
taking it all in at exactly the right moment,
when the flowers are in full bloom,
and the sun glints just so through the treetops
and into the lush, verdant space around you.
There is someone praying, maybe it’s you,
for relief from the feeling that everything should stay,
that the worst thing that could happen
is that all of this is going to change.
It is a deep and earnest prayer
that brings tears to the eye
and a deep rattling within the heart cage.
Maybe your eyes were closed, so you open them,
and the sun’s rays have shifted just enough
that the flower petals, as you take note,
have changed their direction to follow
the source of their nourishment.
It’s still your garden; you are still
in its endlessly deep, luxurious confines,
and you’ve never felt more free,
letting the changes do
what they were always going to,
and these transitions around you
are the heralding of life,
it’s coming and changing and going,
and fear that it will all disappear
is the golden emblem of your humanity.
It is your gorgeous humanity,
singing and haunting and taunting,
crying and pleading and laughing.
The garden takes it all in,
has only love to give back.
Take note of your garden; take it all in
with the time you’ve been given.
There is so much being offered,
and it’s all for you.
 
– TT

Make it So (for Life)

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Make it so,

the way an umbrella shelters

without removing the

experience of rain,

the way the flags flap

in the breeze,

giving away just a little bit

of their colour

with each passing moment,

so that we may pray

through and with them,

and it’s amazing

how long they hang on.

Make it so,

a full, bright, hope-filled

life. Take it all in.

Feel the breath

moving through you.

Know, too, that  the

fading of things

is also a reminder

of the fullest

expression of beauty,

at birth, in life,

and in the passing

of all things.

  • TT

 

 

Don’t Say My Name

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Don’t say my name,
see what else falls away,
which words drop off
the tongue in light
of this new consideration?
 
I think of the moon,
and the image changes,
the word alone
conjuring faraway
tapestries of night,
 
also forbidding, in their
very distance from
here. Why not place
faith, instead, in their
colourful inevitability,
 
should we do the work,
here and now, of filling
ourselves with the kind
of light that fills the
contours of tomorrow?
 
Why not remove the
name, the idea, as the
serpent sheds her skin,
the very sheath that
gave her a body, her
 
movement, knowing there
is more to come, knowing
that the movement itself,
which is life and love,
will take us there?
 
– TT

Come Sit With Me

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Come
Sit with me
I want to say,
It’s been such a long time.
 
Maybe this place is unfamiliar to you,
I know – I am also, still, not so sure of it,
or even how I came to be here.
 
I’m not sure which of my histories
had to emerge, defiant and victorious,
from the rest, for today to take
the shape it has, or why,
 
Or how to contend with
my other stories, so stubborn and sure
(so much more certain than I am),
each cropping up, in turn,
to ask something of me.
 
Maybe it’s like that for you, too,
where you are?
I would like to meet you there
and hear your stories.
 
I would like for the act
of our communion, though,
to be our beginning,
to form the core of our existence,
both yours and mine,
 
and for the stories
to enlighten us without taking over.
 
Let us sit together,
and not scramble for meaning,
or dismiss the struggle either.
 
Let us take all of it,
hold it in the space between us,
and breathe and love and be,
you and me,
 
And start
the only place we can,
here, now, free.
 
– TT