resistance

resistance

sometimes the mind
resists dropping
into the heart
defiance?
fear?
I push back my chair
step outside as dawn
brightens the sky
the morning chill
kisses my ears
sparrows chirp
squirrels stuff seeds
into their cheeks—
inexorable,
day has come again

this simple act
out of my chair
into fresh air
sniffing lemon flowers
pungent sweetness
fingering pea pods
my heart settles
and pluck returns
I can meet this day

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

the tube

the tube

September, 1974, five weeks old

deep in the hospital
an x-ray room
bone-cold
the intern straps
my tiny son
stripped to his diaper
into a plastic tube,
velcros it tight
around his chest
his skinny arms
forced high—
his screaming begins
leave now, I’m told

forty minutes alone
on a bench in the hall,
skewered
by his wailing, his howls
that pierced the door
I shiver, tears streaming—
I didn’t keep him safe
a revelation of mothering
I need to protect him
from doctors

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

dissolve the shackle

dissolve the shackle

Lay a little heat on your spiritual life
—Father Ron Rolheister

you aware when
when you see through
through this earthly life
to something deeper—
it’s on you
to make the turn
beyond the bustle
and the rumpus
to where it’s still
—rest there

explore the land
not with your feet
probe knowing instead
be thorough
lay a little heat
use intention
open your eyes
to the quarter-inch hail
pelting outside—
that, too

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

no effort required

no effort required

rain softens the earth
deer fatten with fawn
iris buds swell
unending cycle
life is outpouring
it simply happens
no effort required

noticing, too
even while we sleep
sometimes wide
often close in
yet never ending
our ears are awake
no effort required

why don’t we choose
to be with what is
the creature we are
with a skin suit
that breathes
and responds

I slip out of my thoughts
into sensing
presence is here,
here each moment
feel my heart
while it’s pumping

the past cannot change
the future’s unknown
this hereness
this now
stay with this
no effort required

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

the lantern

the lantern
questions become the lantern—John O’Donohue

hold the question aloft
it leads the way
keeps my feet
treading the path
I intuit
but cannot see

like tarot’s Hermit
with staff and care
light held high
it illuminates the trail
I trip and stumble
from here to here

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

moon bathing

moon bathing

rare as an oriole sighting
late-night soaks
in brightest moonlight
warm steam rising
a delicious seduction

when my fingers
become raisins
when I know time is up
I climb out of the tub
into the nip of sharp chill
wrap in my fleece robe
pull up the hood
to keep the heat close
to claim moonlight’s touch

bathed in its grace
I slide under the covers
offer up prayers
and slip into deep sleep

no one has said so
I haven’t found proof
but that kiss of night
in the tenderest light
marks and heals me

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

monastery

monastery

1986

olivewood beads
handwoven shawl
reflection journal
unpacked with care
ten silent days
ten days alone
the hours loom

every day
old graveyard walk
I trace the dates
on worn-down stones
died at eighteen
twenty-two, our angel
taken at birth

I dodge rushing cars,
horns, anxious
people with no notion
the breadth of a day
spent slowly
minute by minute
in silence

how still the chapel,
sacred names
on the breath
fingering the beads
1001 times
again
and again

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

losing

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.

the price

Note: WordPress will no longer allow me to schedule posts. I’ve apparently
gone over their limit of 400. So instead of my poems being sent out automatically

at 12:15 a.m., I’m going to have to manually post them just before I go to bed,
between 9:30–10 p.m.

the price

are you willing
to pay the price?
the big field asks

it takes
the personal,
dark or private,
unwinds what is
crooked or mistaken—
your sorry thoughts
misplaced longings
and desires

the big field
is incandescent
it burns clean,
like cautery, all
that’s labeled
mine
and kindles wonder
in its place

do not be afraid
there is nothing
to lose—

the first narcissus
opens in the chill
tiny, bold and bright
a touch of sunshine
in the gulf of winter

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

feel for it

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.