Clematis
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?
Reflections:
~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
LauraWeaver.org
soulpassages.wordpress.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Soul Wringing
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
LauraWeaver.org
soulpassages.wordpress.com
The Feast
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 soulpassages.wordpress.com
LauraWeaver.org
The Ocean Inside
“That Beloved has gone completely Wild – He has poured Himself into me! I am Blissful and Drunk and Overflowing.” ~From: The Great Secret
*
The beloved says: there is an ocean inside you—
and all it takes to swim here is to surrender.
And you who have become a master
of delving the depths, shedding skin after skin,
letting go of the old, rising up from
your own phoenix ash—you say oh yes,
I know this wild sea.
*
But the beloved says—wait, there is more.
For still, within you there have been hold outs—
places that braced against the harsh boot
of the world. Tensile webs protecting
intricate chambers from desecration.
Secret caves where hidden jewels shine.
*
And no, it will not be the crack of the hammer,
or the cruel weight of a cruel god,
or the sweltering heat that binds you
into submitting to this ocean. Nor will it be
the will of any other who convinces,
but simply the lion’s roar of an unfettered love
so freely given, you simply remember
the ocean that you are.
*
This is how the heat of the divine within
grows from a flicker to a hot holy fire—
this is how stars bloom from the void
and forests grow from broken open husks.
This is the way the beloved woos you
into tasting your own nectar, into entering
the very blossom of the milky way. Yes,
this is how the beloved points you home.
©Laura Weaver
***Excerpted from the upcoming book LUMINOUS, available this spring 2018
LauraWeaver.org
weaverpoetry@gmail.com
soulpassages.wordpress.com (you can subscribe to blog!)
NOTE ON LUMINOUS:
The book is coming! It’s been quite the birthing process, with many unforseen delays–but just finished the whole book (covers included) design and I am really delighted. I will share a picture of it soon. Life is a mystery. Looking like it will be late April before I have book in hand. Can’t wait to share it and will be doing readings–so if you want to help arrange a reading near you, please message me or reach out at weaverpoetry@gmail.com. Blessings and love!
Ps. There is still time to contribute — I am still $700 shy of my goal! ALL funds go directly to pay for book design and publishing.
First Flight
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now.
-Rumi, Tr. C. Barks & J. Moyne, “Open Secret”
*
There were edges to my loving—
places where countries clashed along borders,
where lovers were not admitted,
where the thicket grew thick and impenetrable
to keep out savage creatures ambling
about in the dark, smelling of musk.
*
There were edges to my loving~
places to guard, gardens to endlessly tend~
the project of myself that took such devotion~
voices in my head I did not want heard
by another who might lean over in the night
and kiss away such tender uncertainties.
*
There were edges to my loving~
there was the wild one of me
who did not want taming,
the one who believed someone else held
the keys to my freedom, the primal roar
of the lioness who said: I will belong to no one
but myself, so I cannot belong to you.
*
There were edges to my loving.
But then came the tearing wind,
and the sheets of rain, the storms
on the high seas, the sunlight on bare skin,
and the eyes of god blazing through my heart
at dawn. Then came the beasts crashing
through the thickets, despite my best laid plans.
Yes, then came life softening
the edges again and again.
*
And one night I woke up from a dream
to my own laughter, to a knowing of my love
rippling out in endless circles. And in my bones
I felt what has always been free,
this sovereignty that does not require
guarding or liberating. And from here~
belonging to everything~ I walked out of the cage
of my own making, unfurled these gossamer wings
and tasted true flight for the first time.
©Laura Weaver
LauraWeaver.org
first published on soulpassages.wordpress.com
*Excerpted from the upcoming book LUMINOUS
Revelation
Certain wild places appear in your dreams—
sing to you in the middle of the night,
*
speak your name in between tasks,
so that finally you listen. It is then
*
you remember how to make a pathway
to meet what calls. Coming with only your faith—
*
arriving, to find you are noticed.
Fiddleheads unfurl in sunlight.
*
Mycelial networks quicken
with footfall. Violet butterflies sip
*
from mud where you press palms
to feel warmth moving in earth again.
*
This is an ordinary transfiguration.
A simple alchemy. You have whispered
*
a thousand prayers to get here. You have traveled
a long way in body or soul, to come with hands
*
outstretched in offering, in longing. When the waves
rush over the rocks, when the tidal pull whips
*
the silverlight waters into a froth at your feet,
you know that mercy is everywhere.
*
Your soul is a door, but a doorway to what?
This, the place asks you gently and then relentlessly,
*
until you empty your pockets of the tangled
fishing lines of lineage and the stories
*
you thought you must carry—until
you turn yourself inside out to be revealed.
Reflections:
~What wild places call you—within and without?
~How is your soul a doorway? And where does it lead?
©Laura Weaver 2018 (excerpted from the upcoming book Luminous
*first published on soul passages.wordpress.com
LauraWeaver.org
NOTE ON THE BOOK LUMINOUS–I am in the home stretch! The cover and inside are designed and publication and soft launch will happen in March! I’m so excited. And if you are still interested in contributing the Go Fund Me for the last stretch–please DO (I’m close to my goal but not quite there yet)! Thank you for everyone for your incredible support. I am so excited to share this book with you.
The Story
Step closer to the story that scares you~
the one that has you gasping for air
in the night, searching for ground.
This one wants to take you past
the lip of the void to the birthplace
of stars, where all stories dissolve
into the blessing of original song.
Turn your wild horses out
into the fields in the morning,
when first light purples the hills.
They are hungry for this earth
under hoof, this thunder of full gallop.
They may trample all the places
you have so carefully tended.
They may leave you in a cloud of dust.
And yet, this is the only way
they will return to you truly,
without a fence to keep them in.
Leap into the love that terrifies—
you know just what it will do.
It will un-hinge every door in your house.
It will blow in like a hurricane
and re-arrange your furniture.
It will howl like a banshee through your bones
and leave you delightfully hollow.
Without this love you are only playing
at this life– and you are so tired of that!
Let the current lift you
out of the churning eddy.
There is only one place where this river flows—
through slot canyons and the eyes of midnight,
through singing valleys and greening glens.
These holy waters will have their way with you.
They are dreaming you into a body of light.
Why fight what you most long for?
©Laura Weaver 2015
*first published on soul passages.wordpress.com
LauraWeaver.org
excerpted from the upcoming book Luminous
NOTE ON THE BOOK LUMINOUS–I am in the home stretch! The cover and inside are designed and publication and soft launch will happen in late February or early March! I’m so excited. And if you are still interested in contributing the Go Fund Me for the last stretch–please DO! Thank you for everyone for your incredible support. I am so excited to share this book with you.
