Water

"World on Fire"
(original by SM)


The worlds on fire its more then I can handle
Ill tap into the water try and bring my share
Try to bring more, more then I can handle
Bring it to the table
Bring what I am able

Hearts are worn in these dark ages
Youre not alone in these stories pages
The light has fallen amongst the living and the dying
And Ill try to hold it in
Yeah Ill try to hold it in

Chorus

I watch the heavens but I find no calling
Something I can do to change whats coming
Stay close to me while the skys falling
I dont wanna be left alone dont wanna be alone

Chorus

Hearts break hearts mend love still hurts
Visions clash planes crash still theres talk of
saving souls still colds closing in on us

We part the veil on our killer sun
Stray from the straight line on this short run
The more we take the less we become
The fortune of one man means less for some

Chorus



*****



"Tidal Expression"



the waves rise

with a roar

arms form

foam claws to conquer



the waves break

into whispers

dimpled ripples

smiling in silence



a choice

a voice

swimming to surface

sounding

the soul’s symphony

The Ascent

 

step by step
the fall
one level to
another
existing in
stratums of
mood

i walk
the plain
waiting
determined
to mount
the distance

The Space Between

 

crack to canyon

in record geological time

erosion through silence and tears



i call to you

echoes do not reach

the other side



where discussion is forbidden

where excavation is a burden

where answers are unwanted



whose plight is this

that infects me with

the disease of distance?



your journey is not mine

to contemplate or carry

the weight of loving you



all i can give

is the space

you have already left



behind you

Odyssey

 


 

forward or backward
up or down
arduous path
to reach the sky

i am a tree
twisting and turning
reaching for
eternity

Falling

Falling into Flight Joanne C. Mazzella 

you punish me
with silence
the absence
of words
tongue tied
trapped in
the cage
of your mind
where thoughts
roam
uncensored

i don't want
them
packaged and processed
giftwrapped
for delivery

i want
the sting
the sharp edge
of each syllable
drawing blood
the proof
of your anger

i reply
in tears
unshed
in words
unspoken

emotions hover
swirling in
black mists
the air
thick with thought

it's going to rain
hard
we'll fall from
the sky
into each other
into ourselves
or into nothing

Love Your Parents

"Good Mother"
(original by Jann Arden)


m 


M 


P 

Wait

Under a blackened sky
far beyond the glaring streetlights
sleeping on empty dreams
the vultures lie in wait.

You lay down beside me then
you were with me every waking hour
so close I could feel your breath.

When all we wanted was the dream
to have and to hold
that precious little thing
like every generation yields
the new born hope unjaded by the years.

Pressed up against the glass
I found myself wanting sympathy
but to be consumed again
oh I know would be the death of me

and there is a love that's inherently given
a kind of blindness offered to deceive
and in that light of forbidden joy
oh I know I won't receive it.

When all we wanted was the dream
to have and to hold
that precious little thing
like every generation yields
the newborn hope unjaded by their years.

You know if I leave you now
it doesn't mean I love you any less
its just the state I'm in
I can't be good to anyone else like this.

When all we wanted was the dream
to have and to hold
that precious little thing
like every generation yields
the newborn hope unjaded by their years...

*****

One of my favorites off Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Savasana

breathing in
i pull the tides
to me
with the force
of the moon

the ripples caress
this brown body
this tortured soul
in a healing hug
cleansed
in a bath
of salt and foam

breathing out
the filth
i blow away
the scraps
gathered
in a lifetime
of desperation

they settle
in the sand
or sediment
in the sea
surrendering to
savasana

i open my eyes

reborn
to
a new life
a new breath
a new choice

i see
what i have missed

*****

"We must become the change we want to see in the world."
Mohandas Gandhi

Feeding the Fire of Desire

dazzling diamonds
make me dizzy
disturbed sleep
dysfunctional thoughts
of desire

i have a headache

*****

Desire. Is it worth the daily headaches? Last night, I dreamt that I wore a plastic wedding ring with a few diamonds. I wanted more. I wanted more diamonds in the ring. I wanted more platinum.

Naturally, the analytical mind starts asking questions as I shower. What does it mean?

It means I have a headache. My mind won't stop racing to the future, to all the stores I want to visit to furnish our new place.

God, am I that materialistic? My mind answers, "Apparently so. Otherwise you wouldn’t be having headaches, dummy!"

Desire is like a fire, yearning, burning to consume all in its path, even the air that it breathes, until desire itself is suffocating. Death does not come quickly. It is a slow and painful lung intoxication, a smoked madness of the mind, a burning heart, a thirst quenching prune of a body, all dry and shriveled up. The ashes of a foolish soul.

Where is the water? I'm thirsty for something else.

The Eye of the Storm

Religions spend so much time exploring Heaven or Nirvana or the Afterlife. I'm so tired of living as a means to an end. Doesn't everything and everyone end? Even gods in their earthly forms died.

My external life is chaos. After my Father's heart attack, and moving into our new place, everything appears like a deck of cards tossed about an open space, belonging nowhere. Boxes are stacked and unopened. It drives me nuts to think of the disorder sometimes.

But despite this, I was able to sleep soundly Sat night. After 2 weeks without my purple island yoga mat, I found it again, and faced the garden. After 30 minutes, everything was at it should be. The sun did not fall out of the sky; the rain did not flood the house; I was still breathing.

What is order anyway? Some external construct where everything goes according to plan? I've learned a thing or two about "plans" in the last 2 weeks. With them, I feel pretty good, in control. Without them, I'm struggling to swim in a storm.

I was eating dinner with my husband last night, and he looked so exhausted. Poor guy. He's carried most of the weight of this move, and it's beginning to show. I wanted to break the silence, but instead, I chose to watch the leaves sway on a tree behind him, and the way they let the wind whirl them without asking why.

The Eye of the Storm. There are some theories about a stillness at the center of a storm, or is it a tornado or hurricane? I'm not a meteorologist, so I don't know. What fascinates me are the storms created around us everyday. The disorder to our ordered lives. I always talk about that calm. Can I find it? Is there a Heaven on Earth, or do we all endlessly drag ourselves along to get by until true paradise arrives after we die?

I don't know about you, but my morning yoga came pretty close. Walking on the beach, hiking, staring at gardens, hugging my husband, watching a patient heal themselves, listening to a family member of friend's story about breaking chains, finding rare moments of beauty through the eye of a needle in a narrow world...that's the eye of the storm, that's Heaven on Earth, that's my version of bliss.

The eye sees something I don't. I am always thankful for those rare moments when I do.

Hold On

I never knew mortality could hurt so much. His heart attack, my heart breaking.

He used to hold the ocean in his arms, and also had room for me. His love could do that, expand to accommodate love as deep as the sea, without borders, beyond the horizon. He lived to give all his siblings the American dream. He accepted a disillusioned sister-in-law and her frightened daughter into his family without questions, with the answers.

Now he holds on to the words of doctors and nurses, of his relatives, of the unspoken frustrations now coursing through his reperfused vessels.

We try to bring him sounds of spirit, of the flute, of the piano, of bhajans, of ocean waves so he can hold on to the love of his family, hold on to hope.

Papa, hold on.

*****

Last night, I dreamt of a feather floating on a river bed. I tried to grab it, but it kept drifting away. I waded deeper and deeper into the river, but it was beyond my grasp.

I cannot hold on to him. I cannot hold on to anything. I can only hold on to his teachings that surround me in nature's seasons.

Like the feather, he will drift away one day. The river will still be there.