beacon

beacon

all my life
driven toward
an unknown
unseen goal—
refined, but
I was still seeking
so destined
for suffering

I called it
True North
knew its
inexorable pull
it framed my days
offered dimension
and shading

until
I noticed
stillness within
unchanging
reliable
no shape
no color

the silence
bright and alive
waving hello
nothing to find
nowhere to go
closer than close
already here

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

it sees through

it sees through

what if?
something
is looking from
prior, before and
through your eyes
yet isn’t personal?

an unguarded moment
pure being surveys

no labels
no beliefs
or considerations
just
seeing

cells rearrange

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

the song

the song

listen for the song
that calls you here
beckoning
it knows your name
a seed
that plants deep inside
redwood-grove quiet
in that sacred hush
you’ll hear the name
your blueprint song
the root
of the root of you
you’ll recognize
the quiver
in your bones
listen for what
it asks
this song that
brings you home

with thanks to Holly Copeland for the phrase “blueprint song.”

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

clamor

clamor

twenty-four-hour news
social media rants
raucous human noise

instead
thunderheads
in rising wind

first the plunk
of single drops
then the downpour
a steady thrum
on the roof
the silence inside

softens my body
mind emptied
I choose
the clamor of rain

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

the secret garden

the secret garden

a natural bower
her sacred space
hidden away
from grownups
for deepest rest
she wanted
this
searched for it
her fort
in the woods
mimicked
but she found it
turning inward
it couldn’t be spoiled
that way
teased, ransacked
or taken
her taunting brother
didn’t know
this retreat
safe passage
hers alone

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

contrapuntal

contrapuntal

the threads of
earthly life—
rain of hot water
bite of her mocha
waft of jasmine
songbirds
at the sunflower
feeder

resting in the big
field of consciousness
knowing
the 10,000 things
are wholly one

miraculous
interplay—
melodies wrap
in and around
never touching
always one
and even that
says too much
of what cannot
be spoken

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

like gasoline

like gasoline

thoughts can ignite
like gasoline
caustic and explosive
drowned in thinking
mine used to flare
—no longer

why not gentle
your home
soften the people
you hang with
sit near oaks in
silence—listen
for their breathing

the patter
of chipmunks
the acorn that drops
by your side
their quiet will steal
and heal your heart

so take a breath
then another
slowing your steps
as you head back
toward busyness
that swamps the day

maybe even greet
checkers with a smile
open doors for an oldster
we are one family
this can tenderize
thoughts over time

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

conduit of wonder

conduit of wonder

first light
creeps back
as our planet spins
it’s quiet out there
until the birds come
I hear twitters
and tweets
in the bushes
then they show
themselves, blinking
fast as though
rubbing their eyes
little red house sparrows
hummers greedy to
feed—eventually
a lament of doves
feast on seeds
dropped from the feeder
ten, fifteen
even more
busy on the ground
mostly safe
at our house
could be a hawk
or cat around
one predator
never here—
no guns now or ever
simply wonder
light
winged things
and luscious calm

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

let silence speak

let silence speak
note from self

silence is lusty
it hangs in the clouds
rests behind rivers
hides within dovesong
lurks inside tinnitus
we flow from it
are made of it
loaf in it
return to it
sometimes it sings
sometimes it growls
it often hides
get very quiet
it will whisper to you
form it into a hammock
lie in its embrace
it won’t tell you stories
but will share its secrets

listen

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

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.