bewilderment and tenacity

bewilderment and tenacity
note to self

this has been your path
bewilderment and tenacity—
wonder and shock at
the ways of the world
the grit to bear down
and bear with—

at the marrow, life is raw
it takes starch and love
and resolve and guts and
bundles of kindness

watch the sparrows bathe
how they dip and shake
the bevy of doves grazing
the ground for seeds
they all know what to do
relax, and you will, too

thank you to Elias Amidon for the title phrase

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

slant of mind

slant of mind
note to self

look carefully—
does that slant of
mind serve you?
it might be outdated
and need an upgrade
or maybe it can be
thanked, released, and
honorably interred

shame, self-doubt
regret—can you let
them go? notice their
presence and
set them down
slants of mind shade
the truth—
why would you want that?

thank you to Margaret Rooney for the title phrase

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

a prayer

a prayer
note to self

don’t play hide and seek with me
instead, come face to face
split me open
pour me out
so all that’s left is
grace

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

give it up

give it up
note to self

give it up—the
hankering that
claws your gut and
tugs your heart

I was taught
how life unfolds
is not enough—
was pushed to strive
for more—were you?

most of us were
trained to crave—
fancy new boots
a handsome suitor
or swanky school
city life or exotic locale
something! more!

give it up—not the
imagined gains, only
your hungry ghosts
—instead, notice the
steal of light, how it
shivers through trees
the miracle that water
rains from above, your
kindhearted friends
—all freely given

work for change
of course—encourage
discourse and peace
invite healing everywhere
yet welcome how it is
whatever it is because
here it is

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

start close in

start close in

note to self

this is the root of
what we have—
most present
most precious
but never rare—
ever-common
but seldom noticed
by all but a few

consciousness
is not contained
in our bodies
bodies are held
in consciousness
it pours through
vast, unbounded
infinite and eternal—
start close in
live close in

thank you to David Whyte for the phrase “start close in.”

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

open your hands

open your hands
note to self

what might you solicit
that isn’t present here?
look! majesty, everywhere
mounding alabaster clouds
a dust of wind through oak
your friend’s gentle hug
the nudge of a dog’s nose
wide-open pond lilies, the
scent of Daphne in winter
then turn inward—look!
blazing consciousness
open your hands

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

this embodiment business

this embodiment business
note to self

you may not accept it, but
you are a condensation
of consciousness, a blaze
of light radiating everywhere—
although you can trust
me on this, don’t—

look for yourself, a wiser
plan—make it your own
it’s easier to remain awake
than awaken from trance
so once you catch the inkling
—the flash that kindles the rim

of your understanding—be
unflinching, stand square
allow your world to turn
inside out, a breathing Möbius
strip—unfolding has its own
propulsion and will not stop

truth extracts a price—it
requires all of your yearnings
your attachments, and your
misunderstandings to be seen
through and unbound—then you
may enter the marrow of love

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

undivided

undivided
note to self

we see the ten thousand
things, hear and touch them
sense and smell them
convinced of our autonomy—
how is this dense table not
separate from my pliant body?
how can that person—who
has contrasting views
different skin, language
or belief—how is it
possible we are one?

start here—

you can’t survive minus air
trees give off oxygen
we depend upon—
days with no water and
we die—without sunlight
no harvest fruition
we count on farmers to
sow our sustenance—
interbeing is boundless
lions need gazelle, plants
require pollinators or wind

all born of consciousness
we are one family
undivided

surrender

surrender
note to self

the colicky infant
yields to the long-braided child
the sulky teen gives way

to the brisk, busy woman
she cedes to a bowed back
and wild egret hair

it’s the way of things
so achingly evident yet
the carnal body squirms

capitulates
yes, to all of it
there is no other concession

of course, be brave
stand and face the bully
care for the injured wren

but most of all
love one another
then, like Beowulf

we must yield
the leasehold
of our days

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.