Dearest Perfect Mango

Dearest perfect mango
on the highest branch,
though I cannot reach you,
my poet’s soul is fed
by your ripened flame.
From my hammock vantage,
I contemplate your magic
while it happens.
and the simple sight of you
quiets all my hungers.

Only a Cup of Tea

It was only a cup of tea,
but someone else, my neighbor,
made it for me when I was sick,
and brought it to me.
It was the herb estafiate
picked high in these mountains
by her housekeeper Rosi’s brother.
It was only a cup of tea,
though the cure
was deeper than the medicine.
Unasked, a gift from another
who saw me, who cared,
I was alone
in my new country, unwell,
wondering what might unfold,
too green to have found a doctor,
or to have turned in my history
at the Red Cross ambulance post,
or to have signed up
for the national insurance.
It was only a cup of tea,
my condition not acute,
and I was already out of bed.
But when she brought it,
when she sat with me
and when I sipped it,
all the kindness in the world
flowed down my throat
and poured its healing into me.         ©Susa Silvermarie 2017

gracias a mi vecina Martha

Eating a Peach at Fawn Lake

Praying to the 7 Directions on Equinox

The lake in early morning,
a wavy plate reflecting
an evergreen shoreline.
At its edge, I let
the juice of a peach
make joy in my mouth
and drip from my fingers
into the body of water.
Then I enter,
my own body feeling her silk
as I quietly glide to the middle.
I float forever under azure sky
in the lake’s sparkling arms.

I emerge a different person
into birdsong, duck calls,
and the whirr of a zebra dragonfly
lifting and zooming from my shoulder,
glad to be
only the human here.
Around our tiny planet
I send this peace,
that its buoyancy may lift
the lives of those whose burdens
I heard on the radio news.

From this gentle place,
serenity I send to the teachers
behind the barricades in Oaxaca;
into the anguished hearts of shooters;
into the breath of generals,
and the breath of mothers who
this day have lost their children.

From the harmony here, I send
dragonfly blessings
and the sweetness of peaches,
to those I love and those I fear.
May this tranquil lake remind us
it’s time to wake and claim
our true and holy nature.

©Susa Silvermarie 2016

 

Teachers of Play

Never before have I breathed
in a human pod of happiness.
My mind gets out of the way.
I learn to be a conscious breather,
to expel old air, fill more lung,
all of my energy on hand.

I cry out to the sea and learn
that staying in the moment can’t
mean holding onto my breath—
Instead I must trust the in and the out
to bring me over and over,
to the present point of power.

I cry out to the sea
for a finishing of grief.
I don’t need the story to open the door,
the one with the sign marked Unknown.
This is where I have wanted to stay,
this is what I have always
reached out my arms to embrace—
not the realm of physical death,
but aliveness that demands
death to past and future.

Flying in the wind on the sea,
is the only thing there is.
Wanting nothing else
expands me into ecstasy,
my life a practice of breath.

Held in the salty sea,
I am suspended; weightless;
secure in a water world, surprised
to breathe through my mouth like them.
And then they are beneath me,
these Beings of the sea,
teaching me how to Play.

I feel the changing of my cells
pulsing life at a new vibration.
I give the ocean all my befores,
which fall away like the dream they were.
Free of gravity and past, I float,
sloughed of the worries about what is not here.
On the sea, I arrive at a time
that has never been before,
and will never come again.
I am a wave! I am a particle!
I’m a Being in the field of Play.

©Susa Silvermarie 2016