reach out
as simple as one hand
soothing another
just that—a friend
shows up, unexpected
no words exchanged
so much shared
her touch, his glance
maybe a soft hug
subtle and nuanced
healing tonic
heart homeopathy
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
come home
as I elder into old,
noticing is called back home—
be gentle here, it says
rest in slanted sunshine
close your eyes, eavesdrop
as birds tuck in for night
reflect on what’s involved
in autumn’s harvest
how to put it all to bed
I ask for yields of kindness
and gleans of gratitude
to fruit my shortening days
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
water of life
soothe the whining
hound tied to a pole
outside 7-Eleven,
his limpid eyes
trained on the door,
drop a quarter in
the meter gone red
the simplest act,
greet the man
stacking apples
and smile
spirit streams
an atmospheric river
always here
pouring in, around,
and through
it is us, all of us
abundant and fresh
drink in what we are
open
to its cleansing flood
then share
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
anam cara
soul friend
the one
who phones
in the moment
you think of them
the one
who arrives
at your door
with love
in their gaze
the one
who offers
true silence
when your heart
aches
the one
who swings
you around
sharing
your joy
the one
who is present
when you weep
unstoppable
the one
who helps you
rise again
in peace
that one
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
cup of oneness
imbibing the cup
cast some friends out,
called new ones in—
this, a necessary
purge
it bulldozed
old beliefs,
flipped my view
upside down
and rearranged
my very core—
in the rubble
of myself,
I dusted
off remains
reclaimed a skeleton
of kindness, found
bones of gratitude—
now, drink
some more
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
precious cargo
our hearts—
not the complex
meaty thing
but capacity—
how the fox
forgoes food so
her kits are fed
even as skin
sculpts her ribs
how the youngster
slips piggy-bank
coins—
his whole savings—
in the blind man’s
mug or a worn-weary
woman pulls her
sister in close
we can shine
our heart light
and set
the world ablaze—
is this duty or gift?
either way,
meant to be
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
shearing
1995
the snips and burr
when she sheared
his mane, curls
wanting to dread,
he surfaced
wide-eyed
from all that hair—
it lay in heaps
at his feet
staring at the piles
his teenage angst
washed away
he said to me,
I want the birds
to have it to keep
their babies warm
hung in clumps
on the fence, we
watched it bleach
from mahogany,
blaze red
to almost pink,
and wondered
four years later,
the corvid nest
tumbled from a fir—
the boy, now man
pointed, look!
threaded through
the sticks
lining the lair
his hair
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
feel for it
At the end of my suffering there was a door—Louise Glück
turn around
dive in and down
no need for worry
nothing is safe
be curious instead—
feel around for
your inner
knots or gnarls
when you find one
soften your intent
sit with the snag
become its ally,
playmate and consort
it wants you—
you are its way
through
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
give
this late
when it’s clear
how short life is
indifferent, even—
try giving
give without reason
hug freely
feel the warmth
of your friend
who, startled
softens into you
allow your glance
to caress what it
touches, to gild
each common miracle
with love
seeing one
reveals another
marvels everywhere
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
friendliness
care for
and befriend yourself
that way
you are never alone
life is hard enough
it took me most
of a lifetime
to learn this
and I relearn it
every day
listen to your
inner yammering
a frenzied parade
of thoughts
we’re so used to
that voice rattling on
an endless commentary
fine tune your ear—
is it a kind friend
or harsh judge?
if you find the judge
smile and just say
no.
no more
only goodwill here
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 