wayfarer
note to self
you’ve never walked
the Camino, but your
marrow knows the
journey—
one patient step
and then another
into recognition
you are pilgrim and
wayfarer of what’s
hidden in plain sight—
no trekking necessary
but stamina is required
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
this wild heart
note to self
your wild heart
calls wrensong and
owlsong to erupt inside
carve craters of awe
this wild heart wants
your very core to open
so wide, lilac wisteria
pours from its gate
the wildest heart sees
your perfection, this
you-ness, a unique and
tender revelation
your wild heart cries out
to speak, begs to be
heard and seen and met
and blazes with gratitude
oh, this wild heart
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
deep water is safest
note to self
your sailor friend vowed
deep water is safest—
illogical for a landlocked
midwestern girl who
yearns to cling to shore
all that’s uncharted in
the salty abyss makes you
uneasy—bottom feeders
things with pincers
tails that sting
giants with razor teeth—
you quiver at the thought
of who is gliding under you
but what about trust?
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the Dervish turn
1999
note to self
I settle my sikke
firmly on my head
pray it will not fall off
bow to the Sheikh
raise my wings
one palm skyward
accepting grace
one palm earthward
offering mercy to
our mutilated world
turn, turn, and turn
until everything vanishes
there is music
I do not hear it
silence settles inside
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
river of kindness
note to self
you know this—
kindness is the way
the only way for you
the deer strips
the little apple tree
of many branches
for a moment, you
contemplate venison
stew—catch yourself
blush
there is no vendetta
they are doing what
deer do
remember—
be a river of kindness
and erect a stronger
fence to shield the tree
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
a pierced heart
note to self
your heart is pierced
in myriad ways—
fox kits tumble in the
field, hummers sip
the columbine, you
cuddle a dying friend
be pierced by silence
amazed by the clear
light of knowing—
expect miracles and
see them everywhere
do not fear it, for
a pierced heart lets
the light pour out and in
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
refuge
note to self
you know where
your refuge is
and where it is not—
it is not in success
nor in being loved
it is not in the size of
your savings nor a
mountain hideaway
you won’t find it
outside of yourself—
get quiet, drop inward
consider what is
primary, first, and
eternally present—
that is your harbor
belonging
note to self
you do not recognize
how you belong—
you feel inelegant
awkward and other
until one day
it becomes clear
your belonging
lives in kinship
with what is—
each time you
remember this
the mind, for
an enticing flash
goes still
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
silence blessing us
note to self
it’s always here—
in the midst of
raucous music
or rumination
skeet range or
forest grove—
silence blessing us
it’s underneath
behind, or prior—
no word points in
the right direction
it’s unfindable
and ever-present
thank you to Rebecca Evert for the title phrase
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
fall into astonishment
note to self
as you age into an
old woman, bowed
with wizened skin
and spiky hair, the
path ahead divides—
you can sink toward
despair or fall into
astonishment
choose awe!
notice it far and near
your son’s wild curls
lined a raven’s nest
soft for the baby birds
a dule of doves
mill the soil for seed
the mare knows to
lick her newborn foal—
marvels everywhere
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
the heart of the matter 