Kneeling in the Ocean

Kneeling in the ocean
I feel you in the clouds

I see the rain coming from far away
A big grey cloud of darkness and tears

The rain coming down so hard it hurts my skin
My arms reaching above the ocean water
In the in-between of fresh and salt

Exactly where they meet

My red toes rise up like bright greetings
My face in the rain

I kneel and the waves float me
Rising and falling with me and around me

Staying in the warm water and the cool air I balance,
Out of my element and yet no fear today
No sharks imminent
Only leaves bumping my arm that make me jump and laugh out loud

~ Lucia K Maya 7/17/15 ©

With Night – a poem by Sabine Miller

Thank you Sabine, for this beauty. Sharing with love and appreciation.

With Night

– For Lucia on the anniversary of Elizabeth’s death

Blue lacewing
singing
in the atrium

at summer’s end
coaxed
into open palms

where it stays
even while
being waved

through the garden,
oak crickets,
old moonlight –

Meanwhile
soliloquies
of poets and healers

echo inside:
A mother dwelling
in pastures

of surrender
helps one daughter
die-before-she-dies, held

in the heart of
her mother’s hands –
in the heart of a Hand

she’s a blue,
Blue rose as
open as it gets,

the petals the waves
she’ll return
in – the rosebud

she’ll become
is starlight
packed in

tight and deeper
than one can
fathom with this

mind, on this
night.

By Sabine Miller ©, 2014

Summer Squash – poem by Elizabeth Blue

Summer Squash

by Elizabeth Blue, 9/1/08, age 18
(a class assignment)

The Seed, Elizabeth Blue, poetry,

The Seed, by Paweł Jońca

When the sun grows
full and ripe in the morning sky.
When the cracked Earth
begins to soften and thaw.
It is then that I shall emerge from the hard shell of my birth
My pod.
My seed.

It is then that I shall uncoil.
It is then that I shall meet you.
You who nurtured and birthed me into existence.You who kept me warm and hidden.
I shall meet you, Soil above your surface.
I shall meet you, Earth where I had not expected —
on the line where ground meets sky.

It is then that I shall meet you, Mother.
In the thin and vaguely described space
where the strength of my stocks
defies the firm and assured pull of your gravity.

In this place of balance I shall meet you
not as your baby
not as your seed
not as your spawn.

I shall meet you as me.
As I am grown.
From you but not of you.
Rooted in your strength
strong in my growth.

It is here I shall meet you Mother
As you.
As me.

Elizabeth Blue, Elizabeth Meagher, umbrella, rain

Elizabeth at about 3 years old

Elizabeth Blue ©, 2008

A Cancer Poem – by Elizabeth Blue

A Cancer Poem

written by Elizabeth Blue during her treatment for non-Hodgkins lymphoma, 2012

As I pray to the goddesses of white blood cells
to increase my cell counts
so I won’t get sick.
Won’t get a fever and go to the hospital.
It becomes more apparent
to me
than ever:
that gentle hand of grace
we call god
is in
my own body.

As I pray to the goddesses of white blood cells
to increase their numbers
so that
I won’t get sick.
I won’t get a fever
and go to the hospital.
And I imagine my fate
hinged on their fingernail
I know more than ever
that twisting fate
we call god
is in
is part of
my own self body.

Victoria told me
a shaman told her
so many ask
beg
to meet God.
And then they say:
“But:
keep my children safe.”
“Keep me healthy.”
“Don’t send me to war.”
“Let me be prosperous.”
“Let me be in love.”
“Keep divorce away.”
“Let me be beautiful.”

And Victoria told me
she thought it was interesting
the unwillingness to surrender
yet want to meet God.
We were talking about cancer I think
When she told me all this.
“Yes it is interesting.”
I agreed.

Elizabeth Blue©, 2012

I’m sharing some of Elizabeth’s poetry as I am able, selecting ones that I love, and that offer some deep wisdom, beauty and teachings for us all.

“Making You a Latte” – Poem by Elizabeth Blue

Making You A Latte – by Elizabeth Blue

latte, yoga, grief,

Latte made for Elizabeth by Sam

6.3.12
5-Close Corral Shift (at Time Market/Cafe in Tucson, AZ)

{One of Elizabeth’s last poems, written when she’d finished chemo, was in remission, and was just beginning to tell people that she’d had cancer. She had wanted to get through treatment and live as normal a life as possible, not having people pity her or treat her differently. This shows some of the sacrifices involved…and we discovered the cancer had returned only about a week after this.}

I’m making you a latte and I’m being paid minimum wage and you’re not going to tip me no matter how well I foam this milk.
You’re asking about our bagel selection and I’m making love in New York.
You’ve decided you would like a muffin, to go, and I’m editing my first thesis.
You’re in need of napkins and I’m being painted in Paris.
I’m staring out the window onto the patio and I’m crying.
You want ice and the ice machine hasn’t been filled yet and I’m getting married in the desert.
You want another latte and I’m crying wet hot embarrassing tears at 7:30 in the morning because all my yoga teachers are out there, on the patio.  And I miss them.
I miss them because I haven’t been to yoga since I started chemo and lost all my hair and confidence and beauty.
And yoga was my first love.
Even before Andrew.
And I miss it so much my heart aches and seeing the people who I practice with outside that window…they’re all together and smiling and happy and when they came inside they were all so excited to see me and they don’t know why they haven’t seen me in forever, because I never told them I was sick.
And they don’t know how much I miss them.  And their not knowing just absolutely breaks my heart.

I’m betting all the time at work.
I’m betting that the children I imagine having when I see young mothers come in, I’m betting that those (my) children are possible.
I’m betting that the weight I gain from pizza will someday melt away when I regain control and stop eating.
I’m betting that the hours I spend imagining the guy I like/love, riding by on his back are not wasted because someday they’ll make his eventual interest in me all the more exciting.
I’m betting that all the lessons I’m learning while getting paid $7.65 an hour are worth it, that I won’t forget them or this summer.

Elizabeth Blue © 2012