Today is a Sacred Day

Today is a Sacred Day

and I don’t know why.

Today is a Sacred Day

and I don’t know why.

I will not follow you

as you go to work,

bored to death

So looking forward to lunch,

glancing at the clock for the day to end.

Nor will I follow you to school

so sleepy in your stupor

of boredom to tears

that you eat your lunch at recess

stealing away any chance you get

to eat snacks in the restroom

while others obey in quiet madness.

I will not go with you to bars

while you drown out the time

distracting your wakefulness

with inebriating substances.

Did you forget that today is a Sacred Day?

But, I don’t know why.

I just know you forgot this.

You forgot the word “sacred”

as you crammed “normal” down your throats

and succumbed to another day of monotony,

planning a weekend of distraction,

but when you get there,

there is little left to celebrate.

You forgot that today is Sacred

So, I will not follow you

as you obey the world around you

as you conform to its rules and regulations

as you clock in and out

as you say “yes” to others’ demands

and forget you stand on sacred ground.

No, I will not follow you.

Today is a Sacred Day,

But I don’t know why.

I just know I will not follow you

As you try to strip away dignity and individual guidance.

I hear another call

and it is not your bells nor alarms

waking you to another day

that looks too much like the next.

You train your children

to be dead in their hearts,

But, I will not stop to watch you.

Today is a Sacred Day

And I will listen to my own guidance

Showing me a Sacred Way.

Bold Sharing

You wear your scar bravely on your face

for all to see

While most of us try to conceal our scars

on the inside

that sometimes leak out and create chaos.

If we haven’t processed our own inner scars

we may not know how to be around you

Who so boldly shares theirs with the world

while we try to pick up pieces of ourselves

and patch them up sloppily on the inside.

If we’ve healed our inner scars

then yours on your face is no big deal.

It is not a reminder of our own unfinished business

but rather an accomplishment of something we have healed.

If we wallow in our scars

we are spoiled brats in a luxury of grief,

We piss away our now

and take for granted the grace and glory

of what we have.

If we don’t appreciate what we have, it, too, might be taken away

So to lament in sorrow over even the worst spilt milk

is a luxury we cannot afford.

Better to be on our knees

Thankful we have food on our plates

and clean bathrooms,

the ability to get place to place on our own

and to describe the view in front of us.

Being ever so thankful

for what is given  to us, now.

Then we are not grieving snobs

and spoiled brats wallowing on what is missing

in a luxury of complaints,

Rather we are constantly humble,

Realizing what we do have.

We let go of our own proudness

of the scars we hold

as if we accomplished a ride to hell and back.

Bowing our heads now, humble,

no longer luxuriating in a grief we cannot afford

Instead we say “Thank You” to this moment

and eat our food with grace.


Your scar is on the outside for us to see

while we conceal ours.

Perhaps now we can heal

Because, after all, tomorrow is a new day.


I used to make time for writing poetry

I used to view the open sky

with a patch of summer in the winter,

able to see inside of every paper cup

to find the tea leaves

prophesizing of a better place.

I used to be so Neptunian

that my Joy touched the ceiling,

pierced through its illusion of limitation

and became the sky.

But then I began to listen to others

who told me about time and lines,

about boundaries and impatience

about needless details

and controlled ingredients.

I slipped for a while

and believed their craziness,

sold my freedom to a clock

and watched the hands tick

until boredom almost got the best of me.

Somehow too much suffering broke the vase

And water spilled out

Allowing me to swim to another shore.

This one does not have you in it,

so you can no longer share your limitation,

your warnings, your fear.

You could not reach the brilliant light

so you tried to diminish mine.

I am Neptunian

don’t make me practical.

I am Neptunian

don’t see my ecstasy

as a lost cause of no direction.

Your boundaries are not mine,

your illusions are your own,

your time, walls and fences

no longer tell me when or where to stop.

I have no problem

in my altered state,

you are no longer here

to try to contain, constrain me,

strangle my expression.

I am Neptunian

and I have swum to another shore.

My eyes see way beyond yours,

My ears hear the miracles of song,

and my heart beats

outside of the thump-thump of time.

I am not practical, nor methodic

not controlled,

nor influenced by those I had given permission to judge me.

Finally, the pain of constraint broke the vase

and the water came pouring out

But, I swam instead

I swam to another shore.

I am Neptunian,

don’t try to contain me.

Your criticisms are now behind me

and my senses are clear

I am finished with your limited world

and though you might see my face

and think I’m crazy,

my laughter and smiles

found their home

on another shore…



Life can change in an instant –
One word, one look,
One magic incantation
One prayer without resistance
And there it is: Complete Change
Another direction that previously had no name appears,
There was no sign post,
No traffic light
No direction book to decipher
No loud flashing lights
Maybe a small buoy far offshore gave a faint fog call
To notice the change in wind direction.
Quickly tighten the sails, change tack,
No, take down the sails,
The current goes on its own.
If we don’t resist the wind
We get to the other side of the moon in a moment’s flash.
Put the anchor up for sale
There’s no point to stopping once flow takes us.
We can rest here and there,
But it is easier to become comfortable
With rockets underneath feet.
The other side of the moon, unchartered territory,
Meant only for discovery
Then life has no craters to stagnate in,
No hidden lakes that are still,
Instead, there are rivers and oceans all in movement
Like a messenger from Mercury
Ready with Cupid’s arrow
To pierce through the veils of illusion
To uncover a Love
That only songbirds know,
Now, their theme is made public
And all lakes turn to rivers
Meeting at the sea
That pushes one to go downstream
Saying goodbye to resistance
And Hello! To the question mark
Which is really a winding river
With a sea at the end.
Swim, great current, swim.