12/15/2018

Nativity


Drop the reins
and let the camel lead you.
Drop thinking and follow
the rising falling animal 
in your chest.
Cross the desert of wordless prayer
to the birthplace in the valley
of your missing rib,
where the Unspeakable answers you
with a body, the odor of fur
in the half-light of amazement,
and a lady gazes down into the straw.
Impossible sunbeams ascend
to her face, her countenance enchanted
not so much with wonder

as with certainty
that nothing could ever surprise her again.
She is immaculate silence,
the fecundity of the dark.
She gives birth to light before conception.
Her void is moist with stars,
yet She who cradles them all
has become your breath.
There is wine between thoughts,
joy and sorrow mingled in one cup.
Now drink,

and be the mother
of your own heart.






12/14/2018

Shift


Shift.
Burst into tears without
knowing why,
like a Winter rose.
The way is nothing
you 'do,'
but simply to stop grasping
the cloud.
Allow yourself to be the sky,
the hollow in your heart,
vast and blue,
where mists of sorrow
that were never really you
come and go bearing mountains,
muted sunsets, rainbows
without origin or destiny.
You were always the sky,
even before you were born.
The difference now,
this tear

of compassion.




Birth


"If the birth of Christ happens not in me,
what does it profit me?" ~Meister Eckhart


She is the fertility
of darkness
who gives birth to light
in the black and groundless
womb between
your thoughts.
Here, in immaculate silence,
joy and sorrow
mingle in one cup.
Her void is moist with stars,
yet She who cradles
them all
has become your breath.
Now drink
and be the mother
of your own heart.