Glass House

Let me live in a house of glass
Without a wall to hide behind.
To thrive in harmony with the earth,
Open to eyes and in defiance of the worlds lies.
Living honestly out of choice instead of necessity.
There are no secrets in glass hosues.
There are no more secrets for me. 

Green Room

What if life is the green room
And reality is out the door,
Where we are our true selves.
We become instinctive and finally of substance.
Reality is where we are warriors and peace makers.
Where we fight continually against the forces of evil.
In reality we are unfettered by physical laws.
Only the limits of our creativity can hold us.
That is where things take on new and significant meaning.
That is where we feel pain and euphoria,
Where our hearts soar as high as we can.
Compared to that reality
What is waking life but a green room?
A dull, colorless half life of waiting.
Waiting for what will happen next
Waiting to die
Waiting to fall asleep. 

Laundry Day

There was a time, before my time,
When laundry day meant going down to the river.
It meant washboards and elbow grease and freezing fingers.
On laundry day white sheets were strung up on the land,
Billowing in the wind and filtering bright sunlight onto green grass and daffodils.
The sweet smell of soaps must have filled the air,
Alighting gently with the warmth of the sun.
I can just imagine looking down on a little town.
To me it would have seemed like clouds pinned to the ground,
Undulating lazily in the breeze among the flowers.

Waiting

Why is it silent when it snows? It's like the whole earth is holding its breath. The pace of life slows, comes to a stop and sits in what seems like anticipation, just to watch the gentle soundless snow. If nature is truth and truth is God, then what could make God so silent? What is he waiting for?

To Fly

A jagged cliff hangs suspended in empty space. White swirling fog blurs the line between ground and sky, so that the clouds seem close enough to touch, no longer ethereal. No longer distant. My time has come. Nothing above me, nothing below me. There is a universe of possibilities, I know, extending on through the rushing wind, though I can see nothing but what is here with me now. A tree, solitary and worn smooth by weather, perches itself on the cliff face. Branches extend eagerly to the open sky and roots plunge deep into the hard rock, protruding  in places out over nothing, defying gravity and daring it to take effect. I understand the tree. A lone crow take flight with a sudden cry and plunges into the mysterious white heaven that surrounds us. My time has come. With the courage of my tree I reach out a hand into space and take my first step to fly. 

God Must Wear Camouflage

Cloaked in clothing made of stars, God and his angels could wait nearby, just above our heads, hiding in plain sight. I imagine, if I ever met God, he would be wearing a tuxedo that was as black as the deep recesses of space, shimmering lightly with his creations. There, on his elbow, would be a galaxy I recognized as mine.
"Come," He would take me kindly by the hand, a strong arm around my shoulder. "Come and see what I've made for you."
He would take me then on a tour of the cosmos, pointing out each wonder with a smile. Sometimes, I lose him in the backdrop of stars, but his hand is always there on mine.
Once we had seen everything, he said, "And now, one more surprise for you." With a little florish, he reveals to me a gown of stars woven together by the dust of the universe, twinkling like diamonds in the light of his smile. "A special dress for my special angel." My own camouflage.
When the day arrives that I die, look to the skies, I will be there watching over you in my twinkling dress, with God, wearing the camouflage of the Heavens.  

As I Lay Dying

As I lay dying
The stars hang suspended above me. I lay there for so long that they spin in circles around my head. I can feel the earth beneath me, impossibly huge and elegant. As the planet orbits in its graceful circles, I can see forever. 
As I lay dying 
I can feel my body becoming a part of earth itself. Though we are endlessly turning, the earth and I, winding our way through the cosmos, we do not get dizzy. We can see forever. 
As I lay dying 
On the cold cement of my driveway, I inhale once more to smell crisp winter air and frozen ground. I am one breath closer to death, one breath closer to becoming a part of the universe who's images I crave. One day another girl will lay here, where I lay now. 
"Look!" she will whisper to me. "Look. Can you see it? Can you feel it?" 
"Yes" I will reply and wrap her in arms of earth. "I always have."