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.
the dark
I know the dark—
the anaconda
coils my body
throttles my breath
drowning for air
I tear at the thing
bloody my hands
wear myself out
it could take me
I turn toward
the dark, drink it in
move through it
tune my ear
is that a note?
finally the faintest
gossamer of chant
the coils writhe
and fall away
I gulp air, flee
toward the song
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
necessary grief
creatures, our cousins
gone by our hand
forests torched
overgrazed prairie
so much concrete
shamed for tears
taught to hide loss,
to shut down
instead, feel the weight
lodged in your bones
find a place
sacred to you
form a circle with stones
kneel—
grief your accomplice
to befriend
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.
ache
so many kinds
of aches—hips
knees—
hearts the most
painful
to be human
is to ache, tugged
by the thread
of all sorrows
love can remake
and uphold us—
an eagle
the uplift
that keeps it afloat
on the eddies
love is like that
it has lift and vista
buoys and
ferries us through
carries us
to the other side
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
tracery
right on her heart
the delicate pattern
love traced with
indelible ink
a daily reminder
of what’s to be done
it can’t be ignored
whatever curves
life delivers
love at each turn
is the cure—like
vaccine for a virus
or serum for bites
love is the elixir
it readies the soil
for the potential
of change—it may
not feel gentle
can even be harsh
yet love is the cure
for what ails us
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
thorn
the wound
doesn’t bleed
but the rosebud
embedded
its armor
it throbs
she sucks her thumb
then locates a needle
cures it in spirits
bites on her lip
and digs
the whole thorn
needs to come out
or will fester
so it is with
misunderstanding
knife deep
but with care
the full root
must be plucked
or else it regrows
and could claim her
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
late-night encounter
for Conny
2 a.m. wakeup
cradle my arm
toddle down hallway
sleepy, unsteady
headed for fridge
whole-milk yogurt
good bed for pain meds
I’m at a retreat
tiny cell a nun’s cloister
five-hanger closet
narrow bed, desk and sink
my home for a week
I find kitchenette
open yogurt one-handed
four spoonfuls enough
long highway toward home
my pill and to bed
neighbor emerges
says something soft
but I can’t understand
point to my ears
woman enunciates
“are you in pain?”
I nod, “yes I am”
she says “bless your heart”
her spirit flows forth
enfolds me in
warmth and affection
tears spring to my throat
clog there—oh!
the kindness of strangers
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
keeping spirits up
note from self
the work—
applying what she
knows to be true
kindness required
there’s injury, pain
life’s a slog
every minutia
a class in attention
he makes the mocha
she knocks it over
floods the counter
rivers the drawer
spatters oak floor
one-handed, she
snatches the laptop
out of the wave
unscathed
chance for harsh
words—none
or blame
doesn’t happen
they work
in tandem
she “I’m sorry”
he “no need”
they remake
the mocha
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
testament
note from self
amidst the deepest ache
and throbbing twinge, stars
still bestow their grace—
even in pain, she stalks
the thread of love
that nourishing wine
and why would she not?
the earth still spins
it orbits the sun, not her
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 