Monday, 10 October 2011

Once upon a time – sweet dreams were made of this

Once upon a time – sweet dreams were made of this

Once upon a time
In a land cuddled up on my mother’s breast, milk full,
I slept, carried by three small laughing nymphs
Triumphant that my fairy-self
Winged and free
Was caught and bound with rose petals
And maternal love

Tired now, body battered and time travailed
A scent I could not perceive
Dropped me softly back into those wordless smiles
Blew the seasons leaves from off the baby sleeping in the deep deep wood
And twined with happiness and trust
I flew to the rhythm beat of her heart,
Known from the womb-times
And heard still,
Distantly through unspoken memories
Before words formed, and stole my wordless dreams away.

Friday, 7 October 2011

Here's the challenge

Here's the challenge: when opinions differ about things that feel like they really matter (because they effect our lives & the lives of our children) can we keep our hearts open to each other? How we are with each other when we do not agree is where the spiritual rubber hits the road (so to speak! :-) Can I listen, really listen & bring a genuine curiosity to why the other reacts or thinks or feels differently than I do? Can I speak in away that helps the other hear- without hyperbole or derision, with deep respect for them as another human being?

It's about having the courage to participate where we can & are called (which maybe on the street with others, in solitary prayer, &/or in conversation & meditation with others) without putting anyone out of our hearts, without forgetting that there is no "them" and "us"- it's all just us, muddling along, trying to figure it out, sometimes behaving badly (usually out of fear) and sometimes shining so brightly it takes my breath away.

It's about expanding our ability to be the peace- feel it, feed it, embody it within- wherever we are.

Internet Confusion and Response

The great Tomas Transtroemer has been awarded the Nobel Prize for his poetry

So instantly this came up in response.

On confusion over Tomas Transtroemer's Nobel award; is he dead?

So many are dead already
Unable to use words with any deep meaning or skill.
The sun standing above the autumn winds
Calls the words forward
But they are stuck in the marshes
Unheard, quagmired in fettered imagination.
Double Yay and WTF?!
Ring out from the central reservation
Of the sanitised and armcoed dual-carriageway road into winter.
Hopefully I wait for the new moon.

Saturday, 1 October 2011

Mr Ed, is he a talking horse with no sense; Poem on disability follows

Just seen Mr Ed's [Miliband] apology of an answer to a person with a disability's question; and this came to me

An Assertive Poem on Disability 
(Note, everyday I meet people who are kind and generous;
This is to all the others, to the powerful, who should know better, but don't!)

I have lost my ability to comply
With the keep-fit fascist medical approach to disability.
It's as if I have broken the unwritten rule,
Now the smoke screen of 'being seen to be brave' has blown away,
And have had to even change my doctor on account of this ignorance.
I refuse to be a victim as my
Human Rights evaporated in the 'healthy' ones gaze of ignorance.

My invisible hidden disability has cast me into the role of lazy,
Non-trying, undeserving, politically untouchable.
Yet everyday is a challenge that I have to overcome,
With a strength and determination unrecognised un-comprehended.
It's unseen to the everyday eye,
Invisible to those who place themselves in the hanging judge's wig, and gown and raised prejudice.

There are so many who instantly decide my fitness for any Rights,
And by their mere fitness and human blindness
They unknowingly, smugly, emotionally, vindictively mentally condemn.
They are the sick who need their illness curing.
They are the ones who's humanity has festered.
They are the oppressors who can not see
That they are actively, righteously, placing 'us' all
In the shadow of their broken, un-healing souls.

Write to Mr Ed