edgewalking
note to self
you walk the edge
along paradox
negotiating the rim
with care—watch out!
you can stumble—
canyon on one side
crevasse on the other
you might go adrift in
the dark side of a story
or the bright—
can they both be true?
try this—embrace them
oh yes, it’s uncomfortable
sometimes agonizing
also boundless and free
balance on that
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.
(yes, it’s a scientific thing)
the great unconformity
a vast internal
abrupt uprising and shift
fourteen years ago
from the outside
all seemed the same
but beliefs fell away
gone not to return
what looked out of
these eyes was
wholly impersonal
and not in time
experience ended
fragrance remains
continually
reoriented
and reorienting
paradox
lived and breathed
wonder thrives
a time gap in
cliff formations
almost a billion years
missing
what happened back then?
are my continents merging?
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
Paradox: that’s what we’ve got. It’s not something unique that shows up on occasion, it’s the whole, wild, everyday display.
My relative offers deep insight into his friend’s abuse of his body, then drinks himself into a stupor, displaying no understanding of self-care.
The Texas floods sweep away this family, but not that one. The tornado slices through an Oklahoma town—half of it is pulverized, the other half remains untouched.
A terrorist group, in the name of their God, brutalizes children and sledge-hammers ancient sacred sites, while monks chant, meditate, and pray for the awakening of all beings.
Many people busy themselves with asking why.
I find all of it without meaning—the apparent good or the apparent bad. It’s just the phantasmagorical, endless, erupting Now.
The terrible, magnificent Now.
© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2015
the heart of the matter 