#24

Re-membering

Crimson, gold, turquoise
and pitch-black night.

You've fallen back
into the arms
of your Beloved

who is whispering
you awake
into a time
when your body
knew all the rhythms
of the earth.

Feet, skin-tied
danced with urgent
certainty around
the sacred fire
with your family.

There was no question of home
or purpose or belonging.
You were not lost then.

The moon pushed
through the trees
to kiss your face.

The trees spoke.
The rivers laughed.
And you were the bird
that could soar for hours
over the land.

The blood spinning
through your body
is still this blood.
Is still the blood
that knows
where to put your hand
how to sleep
how to drive back
the bow and dream.
Knows how to make
a million things
into poems.
Knows
everything.


-Llora H. Kressmann

#23

Preparation

I'm leaving on my fast soon.
Walking through the woods
barefoot today, I think of
"lamenting for a vision"
and I am "lamenting for a vision"
and wondering, just wondering.

The acorns are here. I love to
pick them up and roll them
between my fingers
to shine them.

I am laughing,
standing beneath the Oak's
giant silver branches,
as I ask,  "Darling acorn,
have you ever lamented
for a vision?"
Laughter.

So I am here.
Holding the acorn
beneath the oak tree.

-------------------------

If only
if only
if only
you could let go
like that.

Down the trail
is acorn's reply-
Walk across the bridge
of your life
into the unknown
and become
an oak.


-Llora H. Kressmann

#22

Low Tide at the Marsh

The tide is low.

I don't suppose 

she wonders at

the eta

of her beloved,

the sea?

Mud flats lay dappled

with pools. 

Sandpipers scamper

with a delicate touch.

crabs emerge

clams open

mud breathes 

and dries a little,

seaweed relaxes

and the periwinkles sing.

What is your low-tide song?

How beautiful and abundant

can the in-between time be?

Until they are not between

anymore, they are holey,

they are with the other always

kissing, always embracing

in the quiet emptiness.

How, too, can we 

be like the sea?

We don't even have to try.

All we have to do

is blink

and breath

and listen 

to the wind tickling

the autumn leaves.

and wait in wonder

for the next step

because it will come

like all the rest

happy to fill in 

happy to give back

happy to be reunited

with its beloved,

the shore.

-Llora H. Kressmann

#21

Sangha

The ocean
is my sangha.
The ocean is
the Three Jewels.
Naturally.
Teaching me
all day long.


-Llora H. Kressmann

#20

Home Coming*

This has always
been enough.
These people
this place
I wonder why
I ever left.

Really, it has always
been more
than enough.
In the way
a garden is more.
Flowers tall and short
bending and creeping
intoxicating fragrance
and color
so alive
all at once
in summer.
More.

Or a raspberry.
A raspberry!
Right?
More than enough.


-Llora H. Kressmann

*Thanks to Nicole for inspiring this poem.

#19

                                                                                              jayhookerimages

I've got
sea salt stuck
in my hair and
it makes it look
great.
And something
about the sea
makes me dance.
So I do on
the smooth wet sand
Then I'm singing
to the surf
at the top of my lungs.
Sand pipers,
gulls and crabs they
don't seem to care.
I think maybe
they like it
and I sing to them
more.

I wonder if passing cars think
there's a mad woman
down there on the sand?
But I don't really care
Because there is something
about the sea
that makes
me feel free.
That makes me
drop everything in
to this moment
and be.

So maybe I'm crazy
out here on the sand
Jumping and running and
spinning around
singing opera
and folk songs
and lullabies too,
but, you know what,
there is nothing, nothing
nothing to do.
The sea and me, have a
few things to say
to this world,
and this state
on this overcast day.

Wake up
all you crazies
just walking around
with your ear buds in
not making a sound
Today is the only thing
that we've got,
so take care
that you make it
and see it for once.
All you need is here
in this moment,
I promise its true,
so forget all these thoughts
that there's something
more important to do,
there's not
it is this
right in front of your face
in the rain
by the sea
when you slow down
your pace.

Don't wait
for the moment
when you get it all
right, stop the car
take a walk
and look out at the bright
moon on the horizon
tuning to night.

Come down to the sand
and get crazy with me,
It's your life
so live it
we are meant
to be FREE.


-Llora H. Kressmann

#18

Swallow Dance

Being a bird
like a swallow today
against the sea-salt sky
clouds, storm-tossed
holding down close
to the earth.

Awing in unison with
an ecstatic parade,
a tide of breathes
and swirls
amid branches
then twigs,
then pavement
and my face

Making no sound
except, perhaps,
did I hear,
a tiny
laugh?