compassion

Carrots and Ferrets

~ Emma ~ Leave a comment

I don’t peel my carrots
because I like to feel like a horse
munching away, teeth opposite from parrots
Huge honkers, made for grazing of course

And graze I sure do
it makes the day flow a little smoother
Sometimes I eat standing up, do you?
I’m alone usually, and definitely a mover

When you reach that point
of being obsessed with being alone
loving your dances in the kitchen
Oops this one isn’t rhyming, oh well

There’s only like five people reading this
which makes no difference to me
The beautiful way the words never miss
Leaving my heart and my lips, each time always feels like a kiss

This poem started out about carrots
then horses, then solitude, what’s next?
Clouds, weather, cats, furniture, ferrets?
What do you eat that’s your favourite treat?

Intentional choices to bring home the best
feelings inside our soul, it’s different for you
than it is for me, but in common we are blessed
by the moments we share, the kindness we do

Sitting or standing, laughing or crying
Eating or drinking, listening or telling
Moments and stories, hope and love
Horses, parrots, ferrets, carrots, or cake

The pathless woods is never pathless
if you’re in it, the path follows you
even if you’re running naked, full of madness
The trees unmarked, that’s the juice!

I like where this poem is going now
let’s talk more about nakedness and trees
Isn’t it nice, sitting nude outside feeling the breeze?
Except when someone interrupts, geez Louise

I’m tired and just spent twenty minutes chopping carrots
it’s great though, because tomorrow
I can chomp those suckers back, and feed the ferrets
I kind of wish I had a ferret friend, I’d call him Zorro

We’d sit on my couch and snuggle
he wouldn’t say a word, just wiggle
Do ferrets eat carrots? Zorro would
I think I’m going crazy, is this even understood?

Doesn’t matter, it’s fun and maybe I made you laugh.
If not, that’s ok too
I’m hungry again, damn what should I do?
Stand up, dance, put the carrots on the stove and make some soup!

Under That Same Tree

~ Emma ~ 1 Comment

The pause is long enough to fit,
sixteen breaths, a yawn and a rush.
The breeze pushes to accelerate,
the steps of love, the mind is mush.

Approached with care, she sits
beside the woman with gray hair.
Calmer weather now, the love
has made its way into the air.

Listening and offering warmth
the only antidote for worry,
she watches the clouds as they pass
not one of them is in a hurry.

The loving soul who was there first,
took you under her wing and did,
what we are here to do and to be,
like family we all exist under that same tree.

Movement was a bit of a struggle,
so we called for more love
to come to our aid to provide some shade,
and it was a lovely cool break to lean on a new dove.

When we are entrenched inside the light,
we know and we see so brightly it shines,
from one to another, we swim in delight,
because without the braces it can be difficult to fight.

The energy will command you to slow,
even when you are blinded inside,
the flow – it has a way you know,
to send you messages in such a way, to abide.

One more step, one more breath,
there will always be love and change,
but we are nothing without breakage
and repair to remind us of our range.

Have thanks and gratitude for the gift
of your life. We came here in search
of a human experience and to broaden our light,
to soften the blows of those, and to uplift.

The trip was short we made it home,
with the help of the three wise men,
they brought love, kindness, compassion
and supplies to help us and for that, I give them a ten.

We are all under that same tree,
waiting, watching, listening,
loving, building, dreaming, singing,
dancing and laughing; it’s all that there is, you see?

Brave One

~ Emma

My love you can see and you can know.
I sat up all night thinking how is it so.
It doesn’t feel like much maybe, but I need you to know.
The way you are, the grit on your cheeks, the fear in your bones, the glass over your heart, it’s heavenly oh.

You aren’t the boy in the yard, or the lost one who is alone.
You have delicate ears, soft eyes, rough hands and a soul of stone.
The world has been bothersome and you chose beat over bone.
Beautiful and sweet, pure and kind, grasping to own.

The dust around your body, the particles placing you astray, just wash them away.
There’s a warmth, a cold, a warmth, a cold, just try and stay, just today, okay?
You are protected by the special ones, to that I am one, you can play.
Different shades, green and yellow, purple and black, no matter, they’re colours all the same, tones created from fray.

Lifting and moving, rolling and sliding you are more than tools, silt and trucks.
You are lightning and strength and sensitive forces inherited from the mucks.
The windows are always open you can choose what to breathe, it doesn’t have to suck.
Without the blocks there is nothing to know how to surrender to and survive… shucks.

The giving from your hand and the easy way you go, the wind sweeping into your nose, you appease.
I listen from all the way over here, I can hear the woe and the yearn to please.
The last time you spoke, it was a goodbye that will rest far out wide and down in the depths of many seas.

I will always be watching you, my eyes scan the valleys and search the caves.
Listen not to the ones who hold defence, who let compassion slide, who can’t see inside, who enjoy the rave.
Your tired mind, your stretched emotions, listen less to them, be brave.
The sparkle in your chest, you can rely and listen, you know what’s gone, and what you gave.