You there, Read this.

“And if you decide not to read anymore, hey, no problem, because you're not the one I was waiting for anyway. But if you decide to read on, then guess what? You're my kind of time being and together we'll make magic!”   ― Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being

I am not sure how anyone can get through a life without poetry. My first poet was Carl Sandburg. I still have his Wind Song book from my teens. I have to open the pages now ever-so-gently or they will fall out like wings to the floor.  

My People  by Carl Sandburg

My people are gray,
                    pigeon gray, dawn grey, storm grey.
​I call them beautiful,
                    and I wonder where they are going.   

Poetry should be part of every project. Or, better yet, we should hire a poet to help with our comings and goings in life. Molly Chanson and I are offering retreats and programs on the transformation of our pain stories into our life-giving stories of resilience and initiation (The Initiation).  We have a poet, Kimberly Lempart, a poet and writer extraordinaire who is our project's poet.  Here is a message from her and three of her poems.  (She is for hire!) 

I have always loved writing poetry. I used to write poems in my teens and early twenties until alcohol took over my life. I couldn’t write anything then. After I got sober I began writing again. First short stories then a memoir. Poetry came last only because I didn’t know if my poems touched other people like they touched me.

My writing Sherpa, Julie Tallard Johnson, turned me on to David Whyte, John O’Donohue and a collection of poems by sacred voices from the East and West called Love Poems from God. These books and my writer’s circle opened me up and ignited that old fire in me. I began to write poems regularly and with such passion. I heard friend’s dreams or experiences and turned them into poems. Poetry is so profound and exciting. 


The Way Out

Deep inside of me
Somewhere in a quiet, fragile part of my heart
There is a spotted orchid blossom
Slowly opening against all odds
It fell from the stem in a moment of awakening
Inside of this tender blossom  
There is a writer like a tiny, precious bird
Peering out and beginning to notice the world
And herself with an all new perspective
Desperately trying to find her way, her voice, her rhythm
Her mojo is gaining momentum, swirling, swiftly forward 
The writer sees herself inside of a sad, scared girl in jail
Fresh maroon scars all across her forearms like letters
In another language, a secret message for the cutters
Capped off with a cigarette burn on her wrist
Like an exclamation point at the end of her jail sentence
I see her because I am her and she knows it
It fills me with hope and makes all of it
Every second of the anguished and tormented life
The hate, rage, loneliness, unpaid bills, devastated mother, manipulation, lies,
Heartbroken girlfriend walking on eggshells, unending thirst, constant stench,
Lost jobs, unanswered phone calls, frightened dogs, bruises, ambulance rides,
Handcuffs, courtrooms, married men and woman, hopelessness,
Worthlessness and the huge empty hole inside every single fucking one of us bearable
And worth it, if I can reach this girl and show her the way out

 
No Hugs

There are no hugs in March or April
There is no touching at all, not even the innocent brush of a passing finger
Or the feel of an infected hand in my pocket as you put my matches away
I can feel your embrace
Melting heart pose as we stand together
How we fit together so perfectly, your arms around my back
My arms squeezing you tight, as our chests press against each other
The thin material of my tee shirt inadequate armor
For the way our hearts feed on each other 
The way they recognize themselves
Your crooked beat so quick the friction lights a fire 
Our hearts ignite and liquify in our tattered bodies
The fire burns within us, cauterizing our wounds
Our melting hearts pour out and over, soon to drown us
You cup your hands and feed yourself 
Our eyes connected in that moment and through the centuries 
We are saving ourselves as we quench a thirst
Of a lifetime    
 
She Glides

She glides in the sea of the night sky close to the Earth, full, wet, glistening
Perched over my shoulder she whispers to my inner essence
She needs me to open the nest of my body to prepare for flight
The moon pressures me to cry, to embrace the emptiness
Like the waves of the ocean coming home
She releases me back into the Earth
The heavy presence of dark ancestors surround me, frighten me
I feel the divine echo of my shadow coming back to me
The Earth’s breath pulsates calmly under my feet
The sacred circle is formed as primal energy illuminates my soul
My heart bursts open, every cell delighted in the dance
The boundlessness of all worlds, times and spaces is found
There is honor in the spaces, in the breath that hosts my wholeness
An absolute knowing of the eternal integrity, as I become the healer
I am the observer as the moon becomes my way 
She carries my laughter through the channel
Until I become the channel    

​  -Kimberly Lempart