I feel lonely today.

How many years has it taken me to say 

That this is the feeling that pulls me down?

This is the sound of the rain stopping,

And now there must be something to do.

The clouds are still here.

Birds are starting to sing again,

The easy pickins of rained out worms.

And I have the uneasy feeling, 

Trying to decide 

If I am more worm or bird.

I can’t fly,

And I don’t swim well,

And I’m starting to feel 

A tightness across my chest.

I’m not breathing right.

I have the urge to go outside,

Or get downtown,

Or it is that I’m squirming up

Out of the mud

To get some air,

To get somewhere 

Where someone is who understands:

Companionship, 

Love, Sex or Yoga.

But maybe I am just a worm,

And maybe all I will find out there

Is some big hungry bird.

I’ve heard that peace and love and truth

Can only be found within,

But can I tame this restlessness 

And be still enough to experience it?

-jenn

 Ever since I took that vow of silence,

I relish the strange understanding I have found.

I study the language 

All around me.

Nothing lies but humans.

The trees speak 

In barely audible vibrations,

A thrilling undertone

of rippling leaves.

The message chills me to the bone.

The birds are rustling 

Nesting, bathing, gathering straws

And worms for their young.

Their nests sit quietly, 

Faithfully,

And most will make it through the storms.

And I listen.

I’m keen on Life,

The immensity of the range

Of possibilities and the strange offers I receive,

Similar to the ones I hear on the advertisements on tv.

But these are real,

And may not screw me in the end,

Although they may,

I can’t be sure.

But my heart has aligned,

Ever since I took that vow of silence,

Similar to a twisted wedding vow,

And I feel I will now consciously attend

The journey to my destination,

Rather than be dragged along to it

Unconsciously,

And I will be happy,

While silence takes a bow.

-jenn

 If I say unto you “True,”

You must understand in my Cherokee way

That I am agreeing with only part of what you say,

For “True,” only literally means “half-truth,”

But if I say, “True-True,”

Only then do I believe you.

And if I say to you, “You Lie!”

It is really just a question.

I am asking you to tell me again, 

So I can see

If you can repeat the story to me

Without forgetting what you said the first time,

So that then I may discern

If what you say may be Truth,

Or true Truth-Truth.

Language is a funny thing,

And very complicated,

Especially when our backgrounds

Have such interesting idioms. 

I prefer rather than to speak,

To say hello with a smile and a shrug,

And see which one gets returned to me,

Or maybe I will get a hug

If I’m lucky enough.

-jenn

 When you come back in your next life as an anglerfish,

Be sure to be happy,

And never open your mouth to complain,

But only to swallow the smaller fish

You have lured with your appendage.

And if perchance you return as a koi

In a big tank at the Chinese restaurant downtown,

I pray some kind soul comes and feeds you well,

So you don’t have to worry.

But let us all remember 

Not to complain,

Or make excuses or manipulate others,

For all these things beckon misfortune,

No matter what sort of being we may be, for now…

-jenn

 There is a desirable light,

(There is!)

In which we might consider to choose 

To ponder upon and meditate in

And see things in their proper order

In the light of this wondrous desirable light.

There is a desirable light.

There is!

And in it we are seen to swim

As peacefully as a dolphin spry,

As equally bathed in a watery grave or all seeing eye,

Alive,

As ever the case may exist.

As equally as we could ever ask,

If something was extant or extinct,

If we could be willing to be moved

By the music of the spheres,

If we would be willing to put on our shoes,

Or take them off,

And walk ourselves closer to truth from untruth

And ask some Sage if anything in this life was real,

And hear the answer:

“There is, there is!

There is a desirable light.”

There is.

And even a buzzard that flies at its height

Is beautiful in the desirable light.

It is, it is.

There is a desirable light.

There is.

-jenn

 What if there’s thangs we don’t know about?!?!?!

Oh my!! No! Is that possible!?

How terrible!

How terrifying!

Or is that the beauty?

That in this dream,

Surprises occur constantly

To keep our journey worthy of our attention and our love.

Let’s surf the great wave of the unknown.

See where it takes us.

The Unknown may be where the only true power 

To enjoy our lives resides.

-jenn

 Quod Obstat Viae Fit Via

This poem was formed in the head of Zeus

And sprang out as Athena.

Athena! Athena! Athena!

And now she goes ahead of me

As the goddess of war and strategy,

And she smites and smites and smites until

The beat down is swallowed like a bitter pill

And no weapon formed against her will prosper!

I sing her praise as I watch her fight!

She takes the swords of my enemies

(Including my worst one, oft being myself!)

And beats them down into ploughshares for me,

So that I might plant a garden of olive trees 

In honor of her,

And offer the oil of the pressured fruit on her altar,

And scribble the notes of what I see.

These poems are important 

Memos to me of how I should be

When I grow up

And become able take a stand against injustice and indignity 

And the assaults against common human decency.

And I will return the portion of sacrifice 

For those who cannot quite stand up and fight for themselves,

(But they’re also learning…)

And Athena goes out ahead of me,

And ripples of strength and solidarity 

And echoes of her Truth and Reality

Go marching on.

Athena! Athena! Athena!

-jenn