Saturday, September 24, 2005

My Champion

And there he is
outside my window.
My childhood friend
waits for me.
I gently greet him.
And we are off
into the night.
The balmy air
surrounds us
the milky way
spills across
the universe

Dazzled by his
His wings
His intelligence
His strength
I hold him and say
I am sorry

Over water
in the distance
A cluster
He shows me
A secret place
On a lonely island
A forgotten temple

The flame is out
Brambles and weeds
cling everywhere
But the center altar has words:
Between sound and silence
Let serenity dance.

In this circular temple
A dead wick lay untouched
I find a stone of flint
Touching the flint to the wick
They sway knowingly to one another.
a flame blazes to life

Apparitions of priestesses appear
Transparent in moonlight
They lift their arms to the sky

Dancing in a circle
Around the altar
The temple bursts to life
Pure splendor
Solid golden pillars
Stand beautifully carved

Swirls of incense
Fruit and nuts gleam on the altar
The light shimmers magically
The brambles are cleared
There are only sacred priestesses
And me.

I follow their lead
We slowly walk out of the temple
Towards a circle of stones
A low hum emanates from the stones
Looking back at the temple
The sun is rising
A strange shadow moves
A shadow snake seems to slowly dance
On the temple wall
The head is the temple stairs.

I watch amazed
And one by one
the temple priestess
Walk back into the shadow
of the snake
And vanish

My darling
Watches me
in this circle of stones
Looking at the temple
Gone is the splendor
Gone is the gold
Only pitted stone remain
But the temple pillars stand
Like sentinels over this sacred spot.

When I was little
There was so much
I didn’t understand.
And even now
I don’t completely
But what I have seen,
Has been a gift.
of the equinox .

Friday, September 23, 2005

The Winged One

Pegasus came to me like in a dream. He loved me as a child and I loved him. I would ride on his back over oceans and deserts in the moonlight. All summer we had a platonic love affair. Every night he would appear at my window and off we would go. My parents never knew I was gone. And then one day I realized the world had their hold on me and I could not go. And he was so disappointed he never came to me again.

And now would he even remember me? Would he know in my heart, I so regret having to grow up. It was not a choice, it just happened. I only wish I had one more moonlit night with him. He shared with me wonder, mysteries and to not ever to be afraid of the dark. He was my protector, my champion. And I was only a little girl with dreams of slaying demons and nightmares. I still want to slay the nightmares but I do that with my pen. And they bow down defeated and bleed black India ink.

And now my beloved Pegasus, I remember you in the bright moonlight where you gave me courage and showed me magic. I can only thank you with limp words that cannot show you how much you have meant to me. I’ll keep my window open for you.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Tales of the trio

Many years ago I saw a movie that touched me in an unexpected way.

In a far away unknown land in a distant sea, white men had occupied an island. But it is the story of a woman and her daughter that interests and the woman’s love for her piano. The piano haunts her dreams and she caresses it like a lover.

When she is unceremoniously sent by her father to marry an uninspired man in the far away islands, the piano cannot follow and stays on the beach. She dreams of her piano. The people cannot understand this unconventional woman with no words.

A native man takes her and her daughter for a day to visit the piano on the beach and that’s when we hear the sound of joy. The purest joy. And only this man with Maori markings on his face has heard and understood the voice of this silent woman.

He falls in love with the strange and beautiful. And here the tumultuous relationship begins and creates an adulterer. Only when the uninspired husband finds out and cuts one of her fingers off with an ax does he learn of her wild heart. She cannot change it as one cannot change the tide.

Enchanting, dark, beautiful, melancholy are words I think sit comfortably with this movie. And I recommended it to my parents, who by then were estranged. But to my shock did they take my mothers lover. It has always been a strange trio. But I can only imagine the awkwardness that must have followed when the credits rolled.

But I also think it so fitting for them all to sit in a darkened theatre to watch this petite woman with dark hair and eyes. Transform into the woman who follows her desires. And to see the uninspired husband let her go freely into the arms of another.

Even with a new lover, the piano is her first love. She releases it into the sea and thinks to go with it. But her wild spirit surprises even herself with that will to go on. What lies beneath the surface of a personality is sometimes more complex, rich and wonderful than expected.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

The Yellow Hills of Italy


Ahhh Italy!

Friday, September 16, 2005

Happy Nomad

Here I sit
Looking at the red
Sedona rocks.
The sky so blue
And Snoopy sleeps
Forever on that rock.

We are just visitors
Passing through.
Nothing is ours
Not really.
Some come for awhile
Some stay for generations.

I am happy to be a nomad.
Yes, my garden barely gets started
Then I leave.
But each time
I learn a little more.
So next time,
Will be even

Nothing is permanent.
All is temporary.
Moving makes that a reality.
More than most.

Some lose everything with
A storm
A fire
A flood
An earthquake.

Mother nature
Just laughs at what
We think is precious.
What is precious?
My heart.
My humor.
My smile.
These are mine,
I think.
And I share them
One soul at a time.



The Enchantress gives me a doll.
A doll…
After all these years.

The day I put my dolls away
High in my closet
I cried.
My step-daddy insisted
I didn’t have to put them away.
But I knew it was time
To put them
For good…

I examine this doll.
She is completely handmade,
Not plastic.
Even her eyes
Are made of something real
Like ebony.

She says her name is Nauscka.
She wears sweet little clothes
Like a child.
Blue sweater, skirt, socks,
Little Mary Jane shoes
With a button to hold them on.

I hold back,
Not wanting to believe.

I suddenly realize
All the travelers are gone.
Nauscka tells me to follow
The crow.

I am silent
And so is she.

My skirt has large pockets
And she fits inside
Where she hides.

She begins to bounce
Up and down.
I look around
Someone is coming.
I hide.
Dreadful hooded bandits
Pass on the dusty road.

How did she know?
She says nothing.

She only tells me where to turn
Soon we are at a dreadful house
Near a lake.

The gate of bones moan
When we approach.

I look down at Nauscka,
She nods

I timidly knock.
The door is flung open
Looking into the eyes of death himself.
But the ragged thing standing
Is somewhat womanly.
She spits her words at me,
“What do YOU want?”

“I need directions to the
Camp of the Amazons.”
My eyes wide with fear.
She sees my fear,
And smirks with satisfaction.
“Please come in, dear
And we will see what we can do.”

Inside is so dark,
I bump into stacks of things.
She sits down
lights her pipe,
And blows smoke in my face.
“I will tell you the way,
but you must do something for me
in return.”

I knew this was coming.

“Like, what?” I ask.
“Don’t be so smug,” she puffs.
“Me?” Oh, yeah, yes me…

I feel Nauscka press me
In warning.
I change my tone.
“What would you like me to do?”

She rolls her eyes around
And squints.
“I’ll think of it tomorrow,
Tonight you can stay out back.”

We stay in a tiny shed
And sleep on straw.
In the night
Nauscka bumps me
To notice things
In the dark.
I see Baba’s silhouette.
She blows at the clouds
They move quickly away.
Leaving the night clear
And full of stars.

The house rumbles to life.
Huge chicken legs appear
To lift the house
And walk away.
All I can do is gasp

Just before dawn
A burst of red light
Runs across the field.
The chicken house runs after it
And catches it.
A cackle echoes.

Nauscka whispers to me
“Pretend you are asleep”
And I do.

I can feel Baba peering at me.
She shakes me roughly.
“Girl, time for work.”
The sky is still dark.
I blink slowly and yawn.

She puts me in her kitchen
The house is a mess.
Piles of stuff in disarray.
And then I remember the chase,
Well, of course
everything inside fell over too.

But I don’t ask or comment.
And Nauscka gently pats me.

Baba leaves me to work
Nauscka amazingly
Does most of the work
She cleans, organizes, polishes.
Somehow in a very short time,
The task is done.

Baba Yaga comes in
Squints at me.
Looks around
Shakes her head.

“Huh,” she says
with her hands on her hips.
She gives me directions to the camp.

I am almost out the door.
Baba clears her throat.
I stop.
“Is there anything you would like
to ask me?”
I hesitate…
“What was the red light this morning?
“Ahh,” she says,
“it was dawn coming too early.
So I had to hold it back.”
She smiles her toothless smile
and nods.

“And you, girl, how did you
clean my house so quickly?”

Pressure from my pocket.

I smile,
“With kindness
And sweetness.”

“Bah,” She waves me away,
“Get out of here,
Be on your way!”

I start to run
Out the door.
As far away as I can.
When I am truly far away.
I take Nauscka out of my pocket.
I hug her and rock her.
And she hugs me back
With her little hands.

So long ago,
Putting my dolls away
broke my heart.
And now Nauscka
Looks up at me
As if she knows.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

The Celestial Night

The anticipation mounts
Laughter, applause
But I must escape this merriment
I am too shy for this stage
I hide in the shadow of a great Willow

I hear a hushed swish of a skirt
And there in all her radiance,
The Amazon Queen.
I bow my head,
“My lady…”
“Do not the festivities amuse you?” she inquires.
“Oh yes, but I cannot perform…
not even for you.” I shamefully admit.
“Then I will have to amuse you, myself,” she grins.
And pulls me into the night.

Away from the lights,
My eyes adjust to the forest floor.
I am careful to follow in her path,
Avoiding large fallen branches.

I hear a waterfall.
She has lead me to a spring.
And there,
sipping from its source
Is a crouching cloaked figure.

Feminine hands touch the water.
Hands brilliant like bone.
She turns to face us.
Her hood slips down.
Light spills from within.
And there…
a radiant being stands.

The Amazon Queen bows,
And I follow.
This gentle lady’s cloak,
Falls to the ground.
the night
Flares like a full moon just landed.
Her skin shimmers
Her blazing gown is gossamer thin
with the palest tiny pearls.

“Luna, I would like to introduce you
to your namesake,
Lady Luna, Diana,
The Moon Goddess.”
I stare, speechless.

Of all the surprises and worries
I had never expected the Amazon Queen
To bestow such a gift
To me.

The Goddess inclines her head
And gracefully enters the spring.
It dazzles
with what is not an underwater light.
There she bathes and tells us
how her sisters each manage a star.
But being the youngest
she wanted to stay nearest home,
And care for Gaia’s own little sister.

The Amazon Queen stirs.
“We don’t want to be missed.”
We stand ready to leave.
Lady Luna, holds out her hands to me,
with a gift.

Sisterly affection I have never had.
I would like a sister like her.
She dons her midnight cloak
The night goes dark
Only her voice tells me
I am still here.

I open the pouch
An oval piece of moonstone
Falls into my palm.
Its bluish surface brightens
Like a cool candle.
“If you ever feel lonely,
just listen to the stone.
It is connected to me.
It will be comforting, I think.”

I am so moved…
by this lovely Goddess…sister.
That my eyes mist
I am amazed…

The Amazon Queen quietly speaks
The Moon Goddess nods.
I hoarsely whisper thank you.

The Queen smiles satisfied.
I follow her back into the forest.
I have an urge to turn around.
But I hold tightly to the moonstone.
Filled with gratitude
And some giddiness.
Who would have thought
Such delights wait to be found!

Tea in the trees

Walking a well tread path
A crisp fall breeze catches me
By surprise.
It’s good to know Autumn is coming
After so much sun in Arizona and Italy.

I breathe in deeply.
A movement catches my eye.
Midnight with the star on her forehead
Greets me.
I sense a message from her:
Go to Duwamish Bay.

The Good Abbess has sent me a ride.
Thank you gentle Enchantress
Where ever you are.

We ride the trail and meet no bandits,
To my relieve.
Coming over the ridge
The awe inspiring surprise
Of that wonderful blue ocean.
The Isle of Ancestors nestles serenely
On the horizon.

I set up camp in a tree house.
It’s hardly rustic.
Opulent with velvet pillows,
Oriental rugs and tea for me.
On a plate of chocolates a card reads:

Welcome Luna,
Relax and prepare for your performance.

After a delicious cup of Earl Grey tea
in a Russian tea cup,
I write nonsense.
I reluctantly throw something awful together
and fall asleep.

Horns jubilantly announce
The beginning of the activities
I gather my things
As the half moon rises.

The Train to Forgiveness

We set off with a light load:
Picnic stuff, pen and paper.
The grassy hill has a worn path
as wide as one foot.
The path leads straight up
And wanders near the edge,
Where you can have
a striking view of the bay.
Little boats dock
And children play in the surf.

A short walk and we arrive,
To a flat spot with a 360 degree view.
The sun is bright.
The sky is its most blue.
And here I write about forgiveness…

The seagulls cry out.
And with the magic earpiece I hear,
“The air is free and so am I!”

Under an umbrella
I write:

The Train:
from Venice to Rome

After settling in
I find my mother
dozing quietly near the window.

I want to write in my journal.
Flipping through
I find
an old entry about Leo’s birthday.
What was Leo’s favorite candy?
So I asked her,
Do you remember?
She slowly replies
with a deep chuckle,

And that begins the unwholesome story
of my father.
I can’t get a clear view of him.
And when it is clear,
I prefer the mystery.

I would like to imagine him good and kind
But my mother knew him, very well.
He was a hurtful person.

My aunt gives me a different view,
But she was too young.

I try to keep the conversation trivial.
But the long drives to Las Vegas,
Reappear without asking.
The strip clubs
With my young mother in tow.
How awful.
How undignified.
How sad.

It breaks my heart for her.
How… Why…

She was pushed so far,
It changed her.

If she was innocent and sweet,
It made her slightly rough and callous.
And that just pisses me off.

I have tried to change the view of my dad.
But what do you do?

He was a big tipper.
He likes to show off…

While in Orvieto,
we stop at a lovely restaurant,
and order a five-course lunch.

I don’t drink by choice,
But I decide to have a glass of wine
with this fine meal.
We are in Italy after all.
My mother puts her head on the table
And sobs.
Crying out in protest.
We all stare at her,
I fear a scene.

She makes me so angry.
She is always trying to control me.

From them on I move very carefully.
It taints our trip a bit.

But after some timid conversations,
I learn.
Her fear is the afternoon alcoholic.
At 36, I have never until then
had an entire glass of wine to myself.

On the train home,
we pass amazing landscapes.
I never thought I would
Spend time with my Mom in Italy.

Unshed tears, renewed anger.
I must move forward in this life.
I cannot hang on to old pains.
I make choices everyday,
That make me a worthwhile human being.
Each day is new.

The seagulls cry out.
We walk as my thoughts
go in and out of focus.

And there…
Hidden by an ancient oak
Is the Well Of Forgiveness.
A bamboo ladle waits.
I cup my hands,
With this magic liquid
And drink.

I think…
Not by magic
Not by force,
Can forgiveness be made.
By much working of the heart.
Can the edge of hate and disappointment,

In this chosen moment,
I give away my icky heartache.
I give my pain to the open sky.
And she takes it.
Drink in lightness.
Drink in wonder.
Drink in freedom.
As the air is free,
So am I.

Roads, Stairways and Wings

I wake sluggish
Finding a velvet bag at the foot of the bed
Its contents are light

The dim morning
Is full of honking donkeys
It’s chaos and they are all talking at once
Trying to get the attention of their chosen rider.

A yellowish donkey
calls my name in a sing song voice
Her name is Dorothy
and she wears a funny bonnet

After much fuss and confusion
We lurch forward into a single line
Dorothy starts to interview me
She wants to know everything
I try to tell her the minimum

A cool shivers passes over me
As we enter an oddly quiet forest
No birds call or breeze stirs
It’s still as death
Dorothy stops and hesitates

Everyone seems on edge
Strange whispering
The whispers become faster
then louder

A group of bandits
Surround us
Mayhem erupts
We run in all directions

Finding my feet
I crouch low near a tree

Voices trail off
I am alone
I wait

Clutching my bag
I seek something useful
Finding the spectacles
I put them on
As if I had stepped into another world
I am surrounded
By little people who blink
On and off like fireflies
They wave at me
and start to push and pull me
onto a trail I could not see before

The trail slopes downward
And I am overlooking
A beautiful lake with a waterfall
It’s enchanting
I tip my spectacles down
And without them
The beautiful scene looks like a muddy bog
What is real here?

The velvet sack has disappeared
The little folk giggle and laugh
at the little wings
A floating candlestick lights my way
I put the little anchor in my pocket
Faeries hate iron
The medallion floats in the air
They seems to like the way it sparkles

Soon we are at a spring
And I am suddenly sleepy
There waiting for me is a bed of soft leaves
I sleep

Singing birds
Slowly waking
in a comfortable bed.

The fey must have done this
Where am I?
In a cave
I hear dripping water

The sky is soft pink
The fey motion me to go
I nod my head to them in farewell
And they happily wave back
The dear, silly, helpful wee ones

I journey up, over a small hill.
There I see a long winding staircase
to a brilliant marble building.
A carved serpents head
Spirals on the handrail

The stairs are murderous on the legs
After many stops and starts
I remember
I have tiny wings
I place them on my back
they flutter to life and lift me
to a grand entrance

White marble columns tower beautifully
A dark mahogany reception desk shines
A huge griffin waits

I register
The Griffin asks me with an elegant voice
to prove who I am
I have no Identification cards
I think she means something deeper, I am sure
I try to keep calm

I proclaim:
I am the daughter of Haruko
Who is daughter of Kana
I carry the bloodline of Shinjo
They who went before me
Bring me guidance in all things.
And I honor them.

A long silence
Then she slowly nods
And looks to her left
There a young woman smiles
I follow her to a room
And she quietly says

“Welcome to the House of Serpents
Rest and freshen up here.
A banquet will be waiting
to welcome all the travelers.”

Insomniac at the Bath House

What does it mean when you are wide a wake at 2:30 am and it’s been almost 24 hours since may last cup of coffee?

Jet lag

Stripe down to nothing
enter the steam room
find a refreshing pool
gaze into the lake
watch and listen to the birds
my silver ring turn black from the sulfer, oops
have a cup of mint tea
coconut oil and water therapy massage


And while I am at it
Sign up for a pedicure and a facial

Slide into cool sheets to sleep