Ode to a ring

round you wrap in circular form
in sparkling perfection
with no beginning or end
I sing to you from the beginning of time
sun metal forged by the dwarves

out of one motion
two leaves brushing by each other
made of the same matter
whispering to each other
a caress
a gentle kiss
the air gliding in
through a slender inlet

two lives each holding the other
gently colliding
two leaves entwined in one mold
out of one gesture a path drawn
a stream trickling

limpid and clear
through the forests
in the early morning mist

you wake and wander to the source
searching for life
drinking in its essence

you take in your surrounding
the beauty of the orange sky
saying yes to the world
you dive in delight in the bright water
drinking in bubbles
seeing the world upside down

tracing your footsteps in the sand
the outline a remote memory of a distant civilization

ancient symbol of unity
you swept me with your wings
to you a promise was made
on a sunny day
from our hearts a mould forged
to be the visible outline on our fingers
holding us together when the wind blows
reminding us to smile when the day is over

in your presence we shine
noble metal
ancient wisdom
shining star


My Name

I searched and found that I have a name of kings.  In an ancient language it means gift.  It was chosen because in my father’s mind it was associated with outlaw.  My parents were smitten by the rebellion and freedom-searching of a generation that wore flowers in their hair.

Along with my first name—a short name with lots of sound, a boy’s name in a girl’s body—came my second, or middle name.  This was a cool sip of water that had Gaelic origins and whispered and sighed, saying yes to unity and divine power.  It welcomed all the gods and spoke of its feminine gentleness.

Together, I was one.  Clad in both my costumes I became whole.  I contained the sun and the moon.  The male and the female.  I had strength, frailty and awareness.  I was the giver and the taker.  The fountain of life from whose source clear water sprung for others to drink.  The one who also drew in and absorbed, and perhaps often, redistributed in one form or another.  Sometimes form became ethereal, and in its diaphanous shimmering it sang into the moonlight evoking an echo from a distant land that resonated over time.  Who are you?  Speak my language…

Growing up I always wanted to be a boy, and yet have come to find myself in my woman’s body and mind.  A revelation in happening, I became who I was meant to be. I have walked on many paths and am now finding the road that leads home.  In its authentic moment of genesis my destiny was chosen and prescribed.  My identity was written in my name—short sounding and sliding in its simmering emphasis.

Followed it was by a long whispering and secret sigh.  This word was humble and yet stood apart defining the identity of that which came before it.  It made me a woman in my boy’s garb.  Somehow it was my true calling and, if I could, I would have chosen it as mine—as a way to make myself known to the world around me.  Not as a boy, a bandit, but as one who spoke truthfully, who in her wholeness contained wholesomeness.  Who could describe the rainbow in its evanescence and sit by the side of the river contemplating the passing water and its shore.  In that relationship—of shore and ocean—I found devotion and also my true love whose name speaks of salvation.

It was later when I discovered in the gift of my name a most profound essence that had meaning beyond words.  It signified that I was the bridge between opposite shores.  I could speak both languages and make hands shake.  Peace was in the making.  I contained the power of the gift and was able to receive it.

At the top of the stairwell

At the top of the stairwell
I rise to find the blue sky
An ancient symbol dangling in the wind
Its chime resonating deep within me

In the morning wetness I find peace
In the crispness meditating on faith
I cling to your trust
Where the thread of my mind is worn bare
The warmth of love and possibility
Of life a kernel of strength
Somehow lacking

At times dawn brings
Evil tidings
Fear carried on wings of dreams

Lost footsteps down winding stairwells
Leading across dusty paths

I see the skyline across the water
Reminding me of the ferry-ride in

You held my hand
And windswept all was there
In one breath
Which meant I am you
And you hold the twinkle
Of moon sapphire
In those child eyes

In them I see the span of time
The laugh of a child
And the wisdom of an old soul

My heart speaks in tongues
In the primordial language of the leaves

Questions arise and fall
And sometimes answers falter

In the midnight light
I catch a glimpse of you
Your armor is your truth
Your stance in its gentle tautness

Embracing in the loll of our bodies
Morning warmth of rising bread

I can forget everything
And come to life again
Invigorated into recreation
In your hold in my arms