When Silence Speaks

“A poet is someone who can pour light into a cup, then raise it to nourish your beautiful parched, holy mouth.” ~ Hafiz of Shiraz   You hold in your hands poetry rooted in the Love of the Divine, just as you are the rooting of the Love of the Divine in form, an embodied aspect of Source. May you find within this work whatever Divine Intention has in store for you.   Prayer to the Divine Great Spirit, Great One Source of all that is, guide me Now. Guide me Now that I may be of service to your Divine Intention. Let Thy will be my pleasure. I surrender personal agenda and receive Divine Inspiration as the driver and giver of this life, of all life. Use me as Thy messenger, Thy servant, that I may lose myself in the work, find myself in all that I AM and love your offering for the wholeness it is, reminding me of the wholeness I AM. Let this Being be a tool for your perfection in whatever way serves You wholly. Legacy “Are you still writing?” “No, Dad, not right now.” My heart weighed heavy with lost potential. I felt his breath, labored and short. And I felt his love true and steady. I feel that still. “You know, Dad, I just want to share, I will take care of you the best I know how as your body ages and nears the end. “And, if you choose, if the wheel of time wants it so, I’ll care for you as my child should you wish to return to play together again.” The memory is strong. A week later we began to sort your things. I guess you felt free to leave. There is your collection, tiny pages of print you brought to life, little books that rest in the palm of the hand small and tight. You once told me, when I was born, you could hold me in the palm of your hand, like a peanut. And now, here I am writing words on the page, wishing you were still here to turn these words from possibility to mini books, from lines and text to stories that rest in the palm of the hand, small and tight.   Between Floating in the ocean body merging with sea feeling the breeze sensing the trees roots as feet branches as wings the breath of God blowing waves ashore as the leaves breathe ancient lore Goddess wind Inhale. Exhale. Spirit’s breath Inhale. Exhale. Feeling the seas rising with the breeze releasing Love’s vigor across the sacred shore crashing intimacy of watery flow embracing blessed land melting into sand Surrender. Complete surrender of form into the space at hand into the space b e t w e e n.  Thirst of Eons Drink, quench the thirst of eons born of the desert’s relentless warmth ~ this thirst runs through the flesh, the blood, the soul of generations endlessly alive with what is drunk. Imbibe with reckless joy and fearless abandon. Nourish the body as a vessel receiving the ethereal elixir of Light the eternal magic percolates, ever expansive. Bend toward the chalice that holds this liquid gold even as it bends toward you hungering for you as feverishly as you hunger for it. Feel the smooth sensation of merging as the formless enters form, awakening what is already there lying dormant, coiled as the serpent, thirsting for eons. Feel the serpent drink of Itself wildly and mechanically, all at once, mouth curled toward tail a circle of completion until the nature of the serpent unfolds and rises as the Light kissing the crown with sweet, forked tongue. Merging, it all cascades, an inward waterfall drenching the moment in sparks of holy fluid like an hourglass flowing from all that is into the vessel expanding the vessel to limitless bounds and cosmic heights.  Light Floods the View Consider all the wild gifts bestowed ~ simply open the eyes. When Light floods the view, the inner world and outer world meet. There, the synergy of what is blended into the Heart of Being is revealed.   Window Can you blame the window for wanting to open to the vast blue sky? I, too, am a window wanting only to be open to the vast blue sky.   Unity Can it be that the spectacular purple-pink clouds spun in place by Source, Father Sun … Can it be that whips of elegant magenta hovering above the shimmering streak of matching Light evoking a majestic sense of awe, wonder … Can it be that this canvas streaked and spun from the Heart of it All, erupting unbelievably full and vibrant touches a place within that is already full, already vibrant and majestic ~ the same Heart of it All? Can it be that this is resonance, entrainment, recognition of Self humbly opening into the taste of Unity?   Holy Nature Do you know how holy you are? It is the nature of your Being. The trick to knowing is to become really quiet. To listen to what cannot be heard. To open to the magic and surrender. Tears may come. Surrender. Laughter may rise. Surrender. Joy may arrive. Surrender. Sorrow may swell. Surrender. Thoughts may probe. Surrender. When everything has been met and surrender is all that remains then the only flavor left is the foundation of it all. And this must be felt to be known. It is a magic so vibrant, it is a texture so alive it feels like pulsing Light. It is a tenderness and Love so pure it tingles all over when felt. This tenderness is the holy nature of it all. And you are a product of its Love. “Cit Ananda’s poems spill from her heart like diamonds, shedding Beloved’s light on the expansive embroideries of Love, longing, and the wounds enfolded therein. We are graced to imbibe poetry’s nectar in its purest form.” Ana Ramana Author of Hymns to the Beloved and Girl on Fire