ground of certainty

ground of certainty

which first?
bad news or good?
in this garden
of embodiment—
the tiniest vole or
Andean condor
spinning planets
and vast black holes
even they birthe and die—
no certainty, not ever

“oh, if only!”
human hearts cry
“surely we can depend
on something?”
well, yes—but not
on some thing
no things are secure
they must come and go
make space for the new
so what is reliable?
the big field of knowing
the cosmos erupts
within “it”—see that

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the leaving times

the leaving times

I’m old
not elderly, not yet
though it’s
over the horizon
now visible
marching toward me
precious friends
in trouble—falls
Parkinson’s, frail
bones, cancers
threats of leaving—
embodiment’s way
of clearing space
some days, acceptance
other days, resistance
as though I could
ward off death
this I must
remember—
love is love
inhale a breath
and feel it
everywhere

repeat

stir up joy

stir up joy

examine the cedar cone
its hard russet flower
adorning the patio—
stop!
watch the grass-green
hummer guzzling
at the feeder, how it
hovers, speedy wings
too fast to see—
the morning hush
lies on the land
how its quiet
stills the mind
and, empty of thought
drink in that joy

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

curiosity

curiosity

saves her
again and again
when she tumbles
down, boulders
careening behind her,
a small curious thought
“I’m falling”
just then, she
drops, not
down the mountain
but into the
present—
inquiring, still
bumping along
how to stop?
broken parts?
help around?
she notes
dust and pebbles
scent of pines
the lapis sky

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

bloom with laughter

bloom with laughter
note from self

so many bumps
in the road
craters, too—
times she gets
caught, shaken
and rattled—so
what does she do?
soothes a friend’s
blues, mops up
spilled stew, its
gravy leaked wide
walks the dog
who insists, pulls
apart bickering kids
wanders into the
garden throws back
her head and roars
laughing—she feels
eyes are upon her
squirrel hovers nearby
unsure paws folded
as he stares—
giggles
escape her, she
cannot control them
it’s life’s consolation

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

only home

only home

note from self

she smells
trailing jasmine
—only herself
sees a hummer
sip lupine
—only herself
feels soft fleece
tucked inside her sling
—only herself
hears the kind voice
of her friend
—only herself
tastes the sharp tang
of her latte
—only herself
here we are, only home
blazing light of knowing
our very own self

servant to the heart

servant to the heart
note from self

the rooster crows—

she awakens and
comes alive to
this world again
plants her bare
feet on the floor
parks her hands
on her heart and
dedicates the day—
“allow me to serve
let me be kind
may my words be
humane, my touch
tenderhearted
I affirm knowing
not-two”

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

behold

behold

Highland coo on
her cup full of pens
full audiobook
on the thumb drive
dictated words
unfold on her screen
she cannot take
these for granted
everywhere she looks
miracles abound
an endless list
bones reknit
the joy of
warm socks and
nourishing soup
rains are here
yet the sparrows sing
brave souls
behold!

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

Fasciation

Fasciation
(not fascination)

when branches abrade
bark into cambium
twine imperfectly
meld and grow
into one—
the urge for union is
inscribed on the forest

just so
cats cozy together
dogs sneak onto our bed—
in 10,000 ways
we long for the other
all seeking to merge
in home ground

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the sixth extinction

the sixth extinction
note from self

what will survive?
maybe not humans
we don’t deserve to—
fouled our own home
harmed our relations
the owl and the oak
the rhino the sea bear
the pollinating bee
the list just gets longer

but consciousness
survives outside of time
bright and alive
open and unseen
prior to survival
prior to extinction
before all we can name
awareness abides

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.