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Announcing the release of LUMINOUS!

October 16, 2018


Hello beloved readers and friends~

I am thrilled to announce that my poetry collection Luminous: Poems & Inquiry for the Soul’s Journey will soon be available on Amazon and other major distributors.  Thank you to all for your patience and support around this project. It has been quite a wild adventure to birth this collection into the world! And here it is!

If you are in the Boulder/Denver area–PLEASE JOIN ME FOR A READING AT THE BOULDER BOOKSTORE NOVEMBER 8, 2018 7:30PM.  And, if you are coming to the reading, please buy your book from Boulder bookstore–as more sales through the bookstore will keep the book on the shelf–and help it get out to other readers.

If you are interested in hosting a reading/poetry experience in your home or community, please write to me at I would love to schedule something with you.  

And, if you contributed $100 or over via Go Fund ME, you will receive your copy of the book in the mail in the next 6-8 weeks.  

More details to come….

sending love and gratitude! 





September 25, 2018


A highwire stretches across a vast chasm.
We might spend a year or a lifetime
walking back and forth across this tightrope.
Perhaps we have even learned how to balance
on one foot, walk backwards, spin and leap—
and other such circus tricks!
But what if the great yawning maw below—
that which we tread above, with the aid
of our fancy gadgets and years of training—
is the very thing we seek? And we thought
we must endlessly study ourselves
and corset our own soul to avoid this!
But now you are exhausted
from all the precarious balancing.
You are killing yourself tip toeing around,
making up stories about what happens next.
Look down. Let the mind dizzy.
Let the foot slip. Fall hopelessly
into the chasm of your unbearable joy.

©Laura Weaver


My poetry book Luminous will be available in the next two weeks via Amazon and other outlets! Stay tuned for an announcement.  

I am so excited to share this all with you! Thank you for your encouragement–and your patience around the timeline of this book. 

Broken Open

September 6, 2018



Some days we fall to our knees
and pray for a new heart
that is free from the scars of this life.
For this ancient heart of ours
has been dragged around the wheel of time
behind the horse cart of suffering
for a few miles— or perhaps thousands!
There is our childhood of course—
this perfect wounding
that is passed between generations—
the pain we thought we should take on—
this pain that is not even ours.
Maybe there is even an existential
exhaustion we only notice
in the moments between sleep and waking—
an obsession with hand wringing
we can’t seem to turn away from.
It all seems so personal!
Just remember— We were warned!
Our hearts were made to break open~
It was in the contract we signed just before
we tumbled down the spirit ladder.
It was in the fine print we don’t ever read.
It said:
You will encounter the tumultuous winds
of your unfathomable fears and the blooming
of your own exquisite light.
You will feel abandoned, disappointed, betrayed.
You will be asked to forgive everything—
and most of all –your own luminous self.
Your heart will break open—
and spill its mysterious treasures—
This is good news!
Don’t try to stop it!
You may feel like you are on fire
with all that is awakening.
You may feel you won’t make it
to the other side.
But this is your heart—
and your heart was made
to break open.
And as you pray at this altar
of your broken open heart—
you will find the handwritten note
you left yourself on the mirror
of eternity so long ago.
Note to Self:

You will have the chance
to be healed by Love.

Take it!

©Laura Weaver

first published on

Remembering our Descendants

August 8, 2018


Many names for holy photo

The day comes when you realize

you are not young anymore, at least

not in the way you thought you would stay.


The wheel turns, the circle widens

and you now occupy a simpler place~

the illusion of your importance dissolving


until you see that you are more a field of light

than the flaming arrow that once burned a hole

through the sky. After the inevitability of our fall,


of our many falls, after the surrender

to our own exquisite dismemberments,

we know we are not any of the identities


that have ever claimed us. Ever.

Some things are created and destroyed—

and this life is a long kiss that opens us


to the beauty of our own disaster

and inevitability of our exquisite return.

We know the way grief and ecstasy


couple again and again, like two hawks

spiraling up the current. And from those heights

we cry out, as we see our own changing face


in the sea waves, in the wildflowers, in our children

running full stride in the fields of the world.

And in this harvest of our life, we feed the world


with our offerings, fully given. And the rest, the chaff,

goes back into the fire that sustains those

who will come long after we are gone from this place.


If only we could wear these wings of our second life

with merciful ferocity—and live as the ancestors

our descendants will remember


as the ones who would not turn away

from the impossible, or give up when all seemed lost.

Yes— as the ones who held nothing back,


as they rode through the center of the storm –

forever tending what matters most.        


©Laura Weaver

*first published on



UPDATE ON LUMINOUS:  thank you for your patience!!!! The book is coming this fall!  The delays have been at times, well, challenging–AND, I’m trusting the perfection of the timing.  For those of you who contributed to the Go Fund Me–your copies will be shipped out as soon as the book is released.  More details to come.  


July 1, 2018



When I reach into the soil

I reach for stars—the miracle


of seed swelling itself into flesh. When

I search for you in the middle of the night


I move towards the beyond—the curve

of your hip a valley I have walked over


and over like a nomad. The cottonwoods

shed their fluffy seed, the tender grass bolts,


the press of summer is upon us. I shift plants

in moonlight to act out this restless stirring


to spread beyond first planting. Tonight

your fingers rub tomato vines, trace the tendrils


of clematis dancing up the lattice on the axis

of the sky. Already we have forgotten


the barren nights. And in the fullness

of this heat, we stand on teetering apple ladders,


reaching for the fruit just beyond the green fur

of leaf—our want a kite tugging to get off its leash.


Then where would we go? Would we find sky

in that floating? Or would we long only for our feet


on the ground, hands in the earth, mouth

upon mouth in a wild, unweeded garden?



~What is your relationship to your own longing, eros and sensuality?

~How does your relationship with the natural world feed and nourish your sensual self?


©Laura Weaver

Photo by Pixabay on

Soul Wringing

May 29, 2018


In the dream, a wise man and I fall to the earth

laughing over nothing, our bellies quaking

on warm soil, the air filled with our delight.


He has recently been to the edge of death—

his body riddled with parasites,

and now—miraculously well again.


I ask him what his illness taught him.

And he says: It was an experience of soul wringing

my soul wrung out of every pride, 


every arrogance, every prized accolade.

I see it in his face—the way this wringing

brought his joy back, how he was restored


by letting go of what seemed most precious—

how now he can give himself

all he could never before receive.


In the dream, this man is a beloved teacher

and I, a kind of daughter learning the ways

to whole my own heart. And this soul wringing—


not some penance or punishment,

but more of a gracious peacemaking—

where each morning I gather


morning dew from the tongues of grass

and drink each drop—one by one.

©Laura Weaver



The Feast

April 30, 2018


It is green and teeming again,

the soils supple after years of drought—

after the parched places

called like a lover for rain,

after empty reservoirs

filled overnight, and the earth

offered her great generosity

so that everything is opening,

blooming, gleaming

with sweet golden light.


There is so much

we could resist in this life—

drought and famine and flood,

the turning of every season,

the arrival of each decade,

the falling away of a beloved,

our own aging bodies, every betrayal

or hurt we have ever held close.

We could spend every moment resisting.


For this mammalian heart aches—

we attach, hold on, scan the field

for potential loss. We love so intensely,

we push love away—lest it break us.

And yet to inhabit this body

in every cell, with no holding back,

we cannot avoid touching those

trembling notes of our impermanence—

those strands in our lives which

arrive for a time, but cannot stay.

We cannot avoid risking everything.



For in this exquisite love affair

the world will court us again and again—

and in this awakening of spring,

we will forget the other seasons of lack—

as we are reborn, renewed, unwrapped.

And the heat of earth’s wild eros

will rise through us—the poppies bursting

their seams, the fillies cantering

in the just born grasses,

the creeks racing high and fast.

And we think—yes, perhaps it will

always be like this—now that I have

emerged from this final winter of my soul.


But all of our seasons will come around again—

grief and passion and fear

loneliness and ecstasy—

they will all knock on the door.

And perhaps, in our forgetting,

we will be surprised by these 

familiar strangers who come

in the dark hollow of the night—

or perhaps we will remember this feast

we were invited to long ago—

and we will lay the table with devotion,

pour the wine, and laugh with delight

with all that is offered,

here, now, for all time.

©Laura Weaver

first published on

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