Category: memory

he said…

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn book, Daily reminders, gratitude, grief, loss, memory, mind, Musings, notes from self, Poetry, writing6 Comments

he said…

over fifty years ago

awful writing
outed me by name
not worth comments
ripped it in half
in front of the class
chucked it in the trash
my cheeks burned
shame carved a pit
I tumbled in
made my home
for three decades

after I survived
being crushed by a tree
thought, now or never
clawed out of the pit
braved another class
months of hard work
this professor called me in
I huddled in the chair
waiting

consider this—handed me
a spiral-bound book
I hefted the weight
before peering at the title
Graduate Writing Programs
two thoughts
I need this much help?
he must see potential

twenty-five years later
1 memoir
3 novels
715 poems

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

nerves

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn aging, Awakening, awe, Daily reminders, emotion, fear, feelings, memory, mind, Musings, notes from self1 Comment

nerves

old woman
still I shake
when put in front
I want to say
girl, get over it
whose voice is that?

but here’s the thing…
the one in front
looks old, yet inside
is young and shy
terrified
of whispers, spite—

steady her
wrap an arm
around   murmur
I’ve got your back
take my hand
we’ll face the fear
together

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

planting

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, consciousness, fear, feelings, home, memory, Musings, nature, Non-duality, nonduality, notes from self, Poetry, Surrender1 Comment
nectaplum in bloom

planting

The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago.
The second-best time is now. —old Chinese proverb

I wonder, is
it just too late?
why bother
to seed new ways
it takes so much—
rhythms required
to change
and not just mine
but those I love

and yet
I survey this land
we moved here
a decade ago
mended the shabby
and raked white rock
now the yard
a mini farm
rosemary cascade
apple, Comice pear
and fig—
the most arcane,
nectaplum
July sweet feast

so I clear
new inner ground
set intention
bear discomfort
knowing change
will bear good fruit

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

thread of all sorrows

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, chilla/test, Daily reminders, fear, feelings, grief, heart, home, loss, memory, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, notes from self, pathless path, Poetry, Silence, spirituality, suffering, Surrender, TruthLeave a comment

thread of all sorrows

feeling separate
that thread pulls us down
first wound
prime loss that plaits
our hearts to suffering

we perform our part
abandoned, betrayed
cut off from source
the cause of war
harm of all kinds

the call—
a voice so soft
come
at first, can’t
parse the words
but feel the pull
like gravity   like song
after years or eons
we make the turn
for home

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

dismantling

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, beauty, children, Daily reminders, emotion, family, fear, feelings, gratitude, grief, joy, loss, memory, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, notes from self, Poetry, sufferingLeave a comment

dismantling

with attentive care
dismantling
the puzzle
of who I became
a little too cautious
a little too tight

as a four-year-old
I did my best
metabolized some
hid away the rest
a child’s safety net

it’s strange to think
of a youngster’s work
guarding the marrow
of who I was

this lifelong task
it takes tenderness
finding the parts
turning them over
with wonder
fitting them together
anew

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

stone

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, body, children, emotion, feelings, grief, Love, memory, Musings, parenting, Poetry, sufferingLeave a comment

stone

1982

a boy waves at my son
he doesn’t wave back
I frown, elbow-nudge
he’s friendly—say hi
he snaps, I don’t know him

smack of understanding
everyone recognizes
my beautiful boy—
heavy limp gives him away
he can’t ever hide

a mom needs to know
how to live with a hitch
so I stuff a stone
in my shoe
limp around all day long

people stare, turn away
or pretend they don’t see
their discomfort more painful
than mine—
when I get home
tears rim my eyes
no longer needed
I dump out the stone

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

rolling in the new mown

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn awe, beauty, body, Breath, children, communion, Daily reminders, home, memory, Musings, nature, Poetry, simple pleasures2 Comments

the bouquet of home

age 15

sharp apple green
sails up my nose
in the spiky soft
I throw open my arms
watch thunderheads
billow, then build
new formations
dig fingers into
softening earth
the bouquet home

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the scent

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, beauty, Breath, emotion, fear, horses, joy, memory, Musings2 Comments

the scent

age seven

sinew surging
under his skin
his snort
and soft eyes
the clip of his hoof
on stone
impatient, waiting,
grassy breath ruffling

his tack,
saddle-soaped
well-loved and smooth
a snap of the cinch
then a boost
and I’m up
so high, hanging
on to the pommel

he mouths the bit
I bury my nose
in his mane
that first whiff
of salt, tangy

and I’m taken

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

passing away

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, Daily reminders, death, family, feelings, Love, memory, mind, Musings, Non-duality, nonduality, notes from self, paradox, parenting, Poetry, Truth5 Comments

passing away

my life, partner, pup
and my son will all
pass away—
we are passing away
each moment
lost to the next
never to return
but through memory

where kindness
and sorrow reside
we draw close
to what’s lost
yet can’t touch it

even that recall
changes and fades—
everything

going, going, gone

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the first birth

On By Amrita Skye BlaineIn Awakening, awe, beauty, children, dogs, emotion, family, fear, feelings, joy, memoir, memory, Musings, Poetry8 Comments

the first birth

age nine

our fat black Lab
panting, pacing
finally she flops
in the wooden box
my father built
and mom lined
with old towels
look, she says
watch her belly
see it ripple?

I kneel down
breathless, amazed
my throat so dry
at the vast unknown
Ebony opens back there
widens, I see something
moist, glistening
then she bears down
with a groan
and it’s out

she turns to it
nosing, licking
a tiny face appears
from the glassy sac
its blunt nose
smushed-tight eyes
and folded ears
a teeny squeak
and the puppy moves—
clapping and hooting
from outside the pen

my big brother
gives a hard shove
for space at the wire
not this time
I push back—my spot!
let her be, mom says
she’s the doggie one
for once he obeys
and it all starts again

2024 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.