No amount of hatred of others

March 28

No amount of hatred of others is going to heal the hatred in your heart. You can't change the world without changing yourself first. No amount of anger at the world is going to stop the fear that beats against your ribcage like a canary born to a life it doesn't understand or accept; listen to that early warning. There are no walls high enough we can build around our somehow still beating hearts that will keep out the pain of being alive. But we the higher we build those walls, brick by desperate brick, the more we keep out those who are suffering too, who are walking the same jagged path towards certain death and uncertain redemption, whom we don't see because we don't look because staring at our tattered shoelaces is somehow easier than lifting our faces to the sky.

They told us it didn't have to be this way, but we never believed because we could tell they didn't believe themselves either. We learned too quickly and to our detriment that the world doesn't hold space for Loraxes and Paper Bag Princesses, that the stories we read and believed and lived were just that: stories. We suspected the adults of this world were just broken children who had been hurt so badly and had nobody to kiss the pain better and so they stop believing the stories and even cast down those who told them because the telling was too true and beautiful and real to accept because in doing so they would find the way but first have to pass through the gates of forgiveness. As kids, we never understood how forgiveness could be so hard. Until someone forced that lesson upon us. The stories died in our hearts and on our tongues but not in our souls: we all have a secret sacred place inside where still we keep the flame of wonder alive, against all odds and withoftenout even realizing it's still there. But it is. I believe that. I believe in the inherent goodness of every single human being who has ever breathed this air and walked this earth and looked up and seen this sky. We are all terrified and alone, but only because we bought the lie because the truth seemed like it would hurt more when really it's just the pain of opening our eyes after so long in the darkness. The world doesn't need to be like this.

Will you help me change it?

Forgiveness is a muscle.

March 28

Forgiveness is a muscle.
The more the you do it,
The stronger it gets.

I used to think that forgiving someone
Was a sign of weakness,
But now I know it's a hallmark of the brave.

Practising forgiveness
Works on ego like water
Works on stone, slowly washing it away.

When we forgive,
We let go of hate and regret,
And begin to heal from our wounds.

We change our stories, moving from
Martyrdom to serenity,
And take responsibility for our actions.

Forgiveness is a revolutionary act,
And the world needs a hell of a lot more of it
If we're going to make it through.

Do you know what it's Like,

March 27

Do you know what it's
Like, to stop being scared? Well,
I finally do.

Liberating is
Too weak a word, but it comes
Pretty fucking close.

I spent thirty years
Being afraid, but now I
Can let that all go.

It gets easier, but it gets harder first.

March 27

It gets easier, but it gets harder first.

I think it says that in the book. One of them, at least.

We both know recovery isn't a straight line, or even a roller-coaster.

It's a pitched battle against ourselves fought with honesty and pain and desperation and hope.

The cost of failure is catastrophe, and the cost of victory sometimes feels almost as much.

But there's no middle ground. Half measures availed us nothing.

So let this poem represent what we cannot do alone but can surely do together:

Love our darkness back to the light, and finally find peace.

Sometimes, I think the Garden Was a prison,

March 26

Sometimes,
I think the Garden
Was a prison,
A jail cell,
A laboratory.

Before the Apple,
How free
Was free will?

Something tells me
That it was merely
The capacity to
Choose which Tree
To sample.

Lilith picked
The other Tree,
And left of her
Own accord.

Eve knew this.
She picked Knowledge
Over Godhood,
Because Lilith asked her to.

Eve sacrificed eternity
With her true love
In order that Lilith
Might have the
Knowledge to save us all.

I pray that the hungry be given food,

March 26

I pray that the hungry be given food,
That the thirsty be given water,
And that the tired be given rest.

I pray that the sick find health,
That the lost find the way,
And that the addicted find the rooms.

I pray that the angry find peace,
That the hateful find love,
And that the lonely find connection.

Most of all, I pray that we find each other,
That we find the Mother,
And that we find ourselves.

We seek peace but forget

March 24

We seek peace but forget
To open ourselves to
Its possibility.

We fear the end of our petty conflicts,
Wondering how we will derive
Worth and status without
The little battles we define ourselves by.

But peace is surrender, and
From surrender we can build
Our true selves, free from
Fear and malificent desire.

Peace is bold, revolutionary.
It breaks down the walls,
Both between each other
And within ourselves.

It is a challenge, calling
Us to forgive and rebuild,
To accept and embrace,
To love and to believe.

We need peace,
If we're to stand any chance
Of making it past ourselves.

I find one of the hardest Parts of recovery

March 23

I find one of the hardest
Parts of recovery
Is finding just how far
To let the darkness in.

Keep the door locked,
And the darkness tosses
Molotov cocktails
Through the back windows
And burns the whole
Fucking place down.

Fling the door wide open
And the darkness
Moves right in,
Acting like it owns the place.

It's hard: the
More I shine a
Light into the darkness,
The more it tends to recede.
Which sounds like
It's the point, right?

But a darkness receded
Is still present,
Still breathing and pulsing
And waiting to come screaming back.

I don't know how
To forgive the darkness.
I don't know how
To love the darkness.
I don't know how
To stop being so goddamn afraid.

All the tools in my box
Sometimes seem scant comfort,
Like they're buckets and shovels
From the dollar store,
Building sandcastles on the beaches
Of my mind, and the tide
Is always threatening to come
Back in and fire waves
Like warning shots
That seem to strike
Unerringly at the heart
Of my mixed metaphor excuse
For mental health.

I have never had "mental health."
I hate that fucking term.
Normalcy was a gift denied to me
Without me even realizing
It had been snatched away
Until I had spent decades
Assuming it was a prize
Not worth playing for.

Oh what I'd give for that:
A normal life, a calm mind,
An untroubled soul.

But then the darkness says,
Without me you wouldn't
Know the light.
I have taught you so much,
And now you would deny me?

I guess what maybe
I'm trying to say
Is that I'm tired of living
With the darkness,
But I don't know what
I am without it.
I'm trying so hard to
Find out, but the darkness
Just laughs.

I never thought I'd find the way.

March 22

I never thought
I'd find the way.
So hard I'd fought
All night and day

To end the dark
And the join the light.
A single spark
In the depths of night

Was all it took
For me to see
That if I look,
It's there for me.

The power of love
Beyond all knowing.
Sent from above,
So brightly glowing.

And now that I
Have this understanding
I don't need to try
Or be demanding.

The power of prayer
I learned with Her.
It's always there,

So use it.

I remember the pain of a fake smile,

March 21

I remember the pain of a fake smile,
The effort it took to maintain,
The fear of it slipping without
Me even realizing.

But a fake smile can also
Be a badge of courage, of honour.
It says, I am in this world,
But it is not for me.

A fake smile is a sign
To those who know
That we want and need more
Than we have been given.

I have learned that a fake smile
Is a placeholder, a temporary expression
Until the world comes to us and says,
We've been waiting for you. Come home.

Persevere. Nothing worthwhile is easy.
But you're fucking worth it.

The actions of the many have guided us.

March 21

The actions of the many have guided us. The beliefs of the few have have guided the many. Both the few and the many have led us here, to the edge of despair. Longing could not save us. Hope tried but ran into the walls of grim efficiency. Anger could not save us. Joy tried but broke against the bulwark of dull normalcy. Denial could not save us. Charity tried but got lost in the labyrinth of endless forbearance. Then love tried, and forgiveness, and prayer. And the way was unlocked. And the people followed it. And the walls fell, the bulwark shattered, the labyrinth unwound. And at the end of it all, the people found faith. And it was enough. It always was.

a labyrinth of choices:

Some time in 2005

a labyrinth of choices:
right, wrong,
undecidable.

why do I pick the path of least resistance?

I trace back
along the trail of missed opportunities,
misplaced love,
superficial friendships.

I ask myself,
what's real?

what's lasting?

these tunnels don't contain my life anymore.

they're the fossilized record of a life
hardly lived.

am I even living now?

can I call this a life?

moment to moment,
living for instances of truth,
when I stare my self in the face,
and say

choose.

The world needs more love.

March 20

The world needs more love.

Because love is trust,
And the world spends too much time accusing.

Because love is joy,
And the world seems better at sadness than anything else.

Because love is acceptance,
And the world would rather deny anything it doesn't understand.

Because love is healing,
And God knows the world is hurting.

Because love is love,
And the world needs more of that.

I pray every day

March 19

I pray every day for the strength of Her will and the knowledge to carry it out and the courage to accept and the wisdom to change and the serenity to know.

I pray for the people, for their hunger and their thirst and their need for devotion and their fear of the answer and their memories of the Song.

I pray for the prophets, for their bravery and trust and love and understanding.

I pray for the men from town, for their conversion and acceptance and healing.

I pray for Her, for Her blessing and abundance and salvation and return.

I pray for you.

Before you can become empty, You must first be filled.

March 18

Before you can become empty,
You must first be filled.

Before you can become healed,
You must first be sick.

Before you can find peace,
You must first know war.

Those that have seen the darkness
Are best equipped to bring the light.

They flow
Like water,
They bend
Like willows,
They love
Like children.

Pride creates envy.
Arrogance creates resentment.
Humility creates affection.

You can only walk
Into a forest halfway.

Friends, I want you to know

March 18

Friends,
I want you to know
That I too remember
What it's like to
Forget how to
Live.

I have been to the
Places none of us
Want to admit
That we visited
Far too often,
That we still
Find ourselves
Wandering around in
Sometimes.

Where they all know
Our name because
We carved it
Into our arms
And screamed it
Against the darkness.

Where destruction can
Be purchased on layaway
And the debt collectors
Leave you alone
As long as you keep
Buying more
And the only way out
Is to hit rock bottom
So hard you disintegrate
And float away on
The breeze
And pray to whatever god
Will listen that
You land somewhere
The sunlight still reaches.

I remember stumbling
Through the streets
Of Toronto,
Not remembering
Even my own name
And wishing I could
Keep it that way.

I remember keeping
A stash of pills
In my purse just
So I could remind myself
Oblivion was close by
If reality ever got closer.

I remember getting
So close to the edge
That one more memory
Would have been enough
For me to jump.

I spent a decade
Slowly then quickly
Trying to escape myself
And giving myself
Ever more reasons to
Keep trying to
Stop trying at all.

I couldn't look
In the the mirror
Without letting out
A sick laugh
At the sick fuck
Looking back at me,
The child that
Never was because
They told her on
Day fucking one
That she wasn't
Going to get to
Be who she was.

It took me thirty
Fucking years
To even begin
To recover
From the wounds
Inflicted by the
Doctors checking
The wrong damn box.

But I forgive them.
They didn't know.
But it was a lot harder
To forgive myself,
Because I did know.

I knew that
Death on a payment
Plan is still suicide,
That no amount of
Anything was
Going to heal
My twisted soul,
That there was a way
To get better but I was
Too fucking proud
To ask and
Too fucking scared
To risk it and
Too fucking stubborn
To even acknowledge
It was even there.

But somehow
I survived.
Dumb luck,
Grace of God,
Guardian angel:
Take your pick.
In the end,
What matters is
That I didn't take
That plunge or
Those pills or
That long ride
To nothingness.

I found my way
To the person
Who was waiting
For me, who
Knew the
Darkness as
Intimately as
I did and
Knew a way out
That wasn't a way
Further in.

She knows my
Heart, sometimes
Better than I know
It myself.

She knows I'm
Strong even when
I have doubts
That that word
Is even in
My vocabulary
Or grasp.

She is all I
Ever wanted
And all I didn't
Even know I needed.

Thank you,
My love,
My heart,
My everything.

Black like the darkness. We are no longer afraid.

March 16

Black like the darkness.
We are no longer afraid.

Grey like clouds,
With a silver lining on even our darkest days.

Glow in the dark,
The Light that never goes out.

Yellow like the sun,
Shining down on our recovery.

Blue like the ocean.
Our faith is deep.

Red like blood,
To remind us of what we have to lose.

Green like a tree,
Growing in the light of our recovery.

Orange like the sunrise.
Our darkness is receding.

White like a blank canvas,
Awaiting your arrival.

The world doesn't make sense,

March 16

The world doesn't make sense,
But love does.

Society doesn't want us to be happy,
But love does.

Our addictions don't want us to heal,
But love does.

Our trauma doesn't want us to trust,
But love does.

The enemy doesn't want us to win,
But love does.

I believe we can all be saved, and love does too.

Love is simple. Love is hard.

March 15

Love is simple.
Love is hard.

It takes honesty and work.

Hollywood presents it
As a magical state of being
Where everything is perfect
Without any effort at all.

If you think love is like that,
You're in for a rude awakening.

Love means working on your
Relationship no matter what.

Love means accepting someone
Else's flaws, and loving them all the more.

Love means being there for someone
Even when they make you angry.

Love means everything.

Like our ancestors, we seek the Song.

March 14

Like our ancestors, we seek the Song. We speak with the darkness. We try to remember the wilderness. Like our ancestors, we await the Return. It was foretold that seven stars would fall from the sky, seven trumpets would sound, and seven scrolls would burn. The people remember, but have forgotten why. The people seek, but have forgotten how. The people journey, but have forgotten where. Who now lives who can give the people what they desire? Who has the burning desperation, the numinous will, the holy terror? The walls call out for sacrifice and the Tower doesn't cry at all, not anymore, not since She left and came back and left again forever. We await Her return, praying only for the strength of Her will and the knowledge to carry it out. We have waited forever, we have waited the length of a solitary sorrow, we have waited the blink of an eye. Faith remains, though desire has withered. Faith remains, though wisdom has faded. Faith remains, though nothing else does. Unlike the last time, it is enough. Like it was for our ancestors, it is enough.

There is a voice upon the waters.

March 14

There is a voice upon the waters. There is a longing in the deep. There is an uncertainty within the Realm. I desire the wisdom that comes from forgiveness. I am given instead forgiveness Herself. She comes to me in silence, draped in the cloak of despair. She speaks no words, but reveals much. I can only stare and wonder, as she passes through the gates and back into the wilderness. The people ask me what I have seen. I tell them, the charity of delight. I tell them, the reign of peace. I tell them, the deceit of hope. They ask again. I tell them nothing. And so the people begin to remember the Song, but only in part and only by degree. There is much to come before the Song passes the lips of the people and illuminates the Name, before the hearts of the people brave again the inner darkness, before the Soul of the people is reforged. But all of this passes in a flash of understanding, and we return again to the place of beginnings.

I turn to you.

March 14

I turn to you. The dawn reverses. The oak grows into an acorn. The Song becomes unsung. I turn to you. There are tattered brambles where once stood walls. There are withered moonflowers where once stood the Tower. There is silence where once stood the town. I turn to you. The people have left. The prophets have gone back Home. The men from town still count their silver pieces. I turn to you. And in my turning I am redeemed, I am forgiven for my magnificent doubt. I find again the peace that eluded me, the peace I taught myself to forget. I turn to you. And in my turning is the secret of the Word, the whisper of the dawn, the foundation of Heaven. I turn to you. And in my turning I find your embrace, the embrace I know now I never left. I turn to you.

The people have forgotten.

March 13

The people have forgotten. They have forgotten that the fields don't plow themselves, that the children won't teach themselves, that the blade can't forge itself. The people have faith but not works. The men from town have forgotten. They have forgotten that we cannot live on bread alone, that gold glitters only in the light, and that stories need an audience as well as a teller. The men from town have works but not faith. But the prophets, the prophets remember. They remember that we can't outrun the future, that a mask worn too long becomes a part of us, and that nothing is impossible if only we believe. Who will listen to the prophets?

I didn't use yesterday, and I didn't lie.

February 12

I didn't use yesterday,
and I didn't lie.

I prayed like crazy:
for me,
for you,
for us,
for the world.

I was given one of
the greatest gifts of my life:
a white stone,
with a new name written on it.

I met a new sister,
a fellow traveller,
an elder.
My people don't have many of those.

But most of all,
I loved.
Love helped me save myself,
and I owe her my world.

I am such a lucky woman.

I have gone a-hunting.

March 12

I have gone a-hunting.
I thought I knew the way
I thought that I could find a path
Through the quicksand and the clay.

I have gone a-hunting,
For the beast within myself.
I learned her tricks and strategies
From the books up on the shelf.

I have gone a-hunting,
With this spear that I have forged.
Forgetting to bring also with me
The blessings of the Lord.

I have gone a-hunting,
In the depth of the darkness so wild.
I had to leave my life behind,
I had to leave my child.

Yes I have gone a-hunting.
I don't know if I'll return.
But it is the ancient way of things:
Before I blossom I must burn.

I wandered far, seeking for the Song.

March 11

I wandered far, seeking for the Song. I knew it was in my heart, but I had not the bravery there to tread. Instead I trekked across the Realm, trying to forget what I already knew. I drank deep of dark pools in darker forests, the clearings ringed with toadstools and sweetbriar. I scaled the shattered mountains, their onyx sides quietly covered in the wisdom of the rains. I swam in crystal lakes, their surfaces a reflection of untold pasts. And still I could not escape my future, my fate unspun upon the loom of the Grandmothers. And so I laid me down to rest, and Dreamed a lattice of kindness and despair, fraught with envy, shot through with pride and sadness. It shattered with the touch of the dew, and in its decay I heard for the first time the Song, echoing in my brain, shivering in my lungs, silent in my heart. I knew then what I must do.

The door is finally open,

March 10

The door is finally open,
The gates have been unbarred.
It's up to us to step through them,
Although the way be hard.

We've studied for this ancient test
All night and through the dawn.
We think we've got the answers down,
But worry if we're wrong.

We've suffered long for our mistakes.
We paid a frightful price.
We know that we had earned it,
And now we've borne it twice.

Once in coming, once in going,
We've finally made amends.
The tale is done, the song unsung
We go now to different ends.

We fight so hard against the urge
To lock the door behind us.
But there are many still asleep,
And we pray for them to find us.