presence
it is most native
most basic
and yet elusive
right here
but goes unnoticed
the treasure
the pearl
right here
what watches?
what’s aware?
not a mystery
right here
try this:
walk
into the woods
sit
sit for a long time
until the woods,
stilled
on your entrance,
relaxes
the first bird darts
and calls
squirrels bicker
and in the understory
the fox slips by—
this, right here
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
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.
before
1974
before—
sunshine centered
on me
my life, my curiosity,
my need
unintended,
you showed up at dawn
screaming, so skinny
five weeks too soon
I recognized your eyes
enormous, innocent,
squinty in first light
they locked on mine—
you knew too much
you knew what was up
after—
white coats, stethoscopes
windowless hallways
cardiac cath lab and blood
fear clutched my bones
mama-grit flared
your eyes made me—
you broke me
am I grateful?
fifty years on, the sun
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.
think about:
think about moss
how it knows to cling
on the north side of stones
for moisture and dark
think about songbirds
who bathe away mites
in an icy birdbath and
still pipe joy
or raindrops that hang
translucent in sunlight
in our rock wall’s
rosemary cascade
this week, Daphne
and daffodil—soon,
they’re done, then
plums shower white
how life is changing,
changing, yet flows,
ever an unceasing whole—
I think about that
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.
losing
the art of losing isn’t hard to master—Elizabeth Bishop
we are losing,
leaving what we love,
so fundamental to
our being here—
how do we learn
to yield with grace?
we lose our youth
then our childhood dog
our innocence
all will go—
loss of dreams
first love
children grown
parents gone
friends picked off
then slow decline
relentless time
what isn’t hard to master?
dark of the night
lie in the field, allow
the canopy of stars
to soak you in
it all comes down to this—
surrender
beneath the losses
something rests
steady and bright
it can’t be found
cannot be touched
yet holds us all
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
throw overboard
the mess of your mind
hose out the chamber
leave it empty and clean
I say this to myself
then suck in moist air
freshened by downpour
feel tension wash out as
hawk screech and finch call
bring me here, right now
I take in the daffodil riot,
past prime but still vivid
in dusk’s slanted glow
2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
free fall
free fall into life
such a surprise
to arrive here
naked and wet
the shock of cold air
in new lungs
no longer one
with your mother
in salty, warm soup
but pushed out
cast out
into two—what
can we do but cry?
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.
the heart of the matter 