The Bridge Across Forever

I belong to twilight,
in the silence
between worlds,
where things
are always arriving,
ending,
beginning,
without names.

I belong to dawn
in the stillness
between breaths,
where things
are always leaving,
dying,
being born,
without a whisper.

I belong
where nothing belongs,
only this life,
this body,
the bridge across forever
now.

Fish Out of Water

between
sky
and
water
is a place
I like to be

fringes
are spaces
between
impending struggle
and tarried freedom,

a tight-rope dance,
where a fish
learns to be
not a fish
out of water,
but a bird with gills
who can surf and dive
into sky and sea.

Come, Be a Mountain!

and Life said to me:
"Be a mountain!
come, take your place
between the heavens
and the earth,
for you are not alone;
come, stay where you are,
for in that space of being,
you will find your place
in the family of all things;
yes, you cannot move at will,
but that's why you can grow roots
into yourself and a landscape
that's ever-changing -
where rivers meander off
like prodigal sons
never to return to your folds,
where birds arrive and depart
like restless pilgrims
always in search of something,
where trees rise and fall
with every wobble
of the slowly turning wheels,
where paths and trails
cut into your very soul -
those that you'll never walk on,
where men and women come
to conquer a mystery
and flaunt their valour,
only to end up exploring and discovering
their own smaller and larger selves;
come, dear one,
be a mountain!
and rest in the stillness 
of all that is,
and all that will ever be."

Dreaming of Home

I am sick of this world
where lines are drawn
before hearts can open
to breathe and listen
to the song
of our trespassed humanity;
I am sick of this world
where you have to tell me
where I can go,
where I belong,
where I can take my place
in the family of things
large and small;
I am sick of this world
where fervent knocks
are slammed shut
with indifference
and misplaced indignation
to hold one life,
one voice
more valuable
than all others drowned;
I am sick of this world
where after eons of searching
and countless rites of passage,
I am still not home,
but lie face down
on a faceless shore,
amid broken shells
and unlived dreams,
too scared to even dream
of my true home.

God of Small Things

I belong
where the lone cloud
streaks through
a cleansed sky,
where everything
is held
welcomed
loved
and seen off,
in the quiet
of an ordinary day;

I belong
to this little slice
of heaven -
a wild forest,
a teeming desert,
an exploding ocean,
that I've grown to love
all the more,
through every turn
and tilt
of the shaft
of this home,

I belong
to this moment
of timeless silence,
a haunting mystery
luring me
into
the comforting darkness
of the unknown,
where anything
is possible
when seen
with eyes
that can simply love
without reason;

I belong
to this haven
that I've built
with the sweat
and the aching muscles
of my joyous heart,
where I invite
all my friends
to come and sit
around the warmth
of the fire
I've learned to stoke
and keep alive
with love -

the fire
that makes me sit
or walk around
the fringes
of belonging
to places,
times,
and people
I can never call my own,
but who walk with me
through the flames
of desire
of wanting to belong
somewhere,

a place
where I can be filled
with the breath
of my aloneness
and honour
the God of small things,
where I belong
to myself and my life,
in a world
that crams for otherness
and a home
away from home,
in big things.