the portal

the portal
note from self

from a young age
she knew this was true
the heart is a door
not just a functional pump
keeping body alive—
the metaphorical one
the gateway to knowing
to opening
to wonder
she wanted to share
were others aware?
not her atheist parents
that was for sure
she went clandestine
tried her best to fit in
til she could leave home
and find her own tribe—
it took fifty years and
a wandering path
to discover her home
is closer than close
her heart is
a portal to here

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

bone house

bone house

some days I think
about all the bones in
this batty bone house
called earth—my calculator
coughs counting bones
near 8,000,000,000 souls
living now, 206 bones
in each one, much less
bat and bird bones
the trillions of fish bones—
an invention of consciousness
that apparently serves
but where do they go?
they dissolve into
love and dust and
nourish the ground
for what comes next

Thank you to Elias Amidon for the phrase “love and dust.”

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

edgewalking

edgewalking
note to self

you walk the edge
along paradox
negotiating the rim
with care—watch out!
you can stumble—
canyon on one side
crevasse on the other

you might go adrift in
the dark side of a story
or the bright—
can they both be true?
try this—embrace them

oh yes, it’s uncomfortable
sometimes agonizing
also boundless and free
balance on that

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

head upstream

head upstream
note to self

like a sockeye salmon
returning to her birthplace
head upstream
push against the current
look prior to thought
buck those falls
dive deep when the
grizzly paw swipes
find your original home

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

a pierced heart

a pierced heart
note to self

your heart is pierced
in myriad ways—
fox kits tumble in the
field, hummers sip
the columbine, you
cuddle a dying friend

be pierced by silence
amazed by the clear
light of knowing—
expect miracles and
see them everywhere
do not fear it, for
a pierced heart lets
the light pour out and in

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

unbound

unbound
note to self

you are bound
to this earth
no doubt, but
there is a way
to untether—
gain quiet insight
from dismantling
and unlearning
the strange way
you were taught
to frame reality

you were coached
and molded to
amplify beliefs and
stories on top of
what actually
transpires—the
how and why
instead of a
clearer what—

peel them off
return to vivid truth
what happened?
instead of inviting
drama, meet and
welcome the feelings
—nothing more

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

nowhere now here

nowhere now here
note to self

your planet lives
at the edge of a
galaxy—some
say in the middle
of nowhere
nowhere now here
it’s all a matter of
space—

your friend says you
can’t put “love”
in a poem—
has love become
commonplace?
hackneyed? cliché?
it cannot be—
love flows out from
that placeless space
eternal, pellucid radiance
into now here
notice that

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

stay rooted to somewhere

stay rooted to somewhere
note to self

we all need home—
the question is, where?
place provides a nest
but for you, being
grounded and awake in your
heart center is prescribed
root yourself there

thank you to Naomi Shihab Nye for the title phrase

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