Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Archive for September, 2014


The little mother prepared the sacrament
beneath the stained glass windows
her hands smooth and practiced
her voice steady and mellifluous

One of my teachers
spoke often of Service

She said that it was through Service
to each other and the world
that we discovered meaning
that the answers
to all the questions that plague us
can be found in our hands
when we use them
to share our hearts
in honesty and compassion

I am learning
that sometimes
we also serve by accepting
that honesty and compassion
from others

That being that vessel
empty and broken
is an opportunity for others
we should accept with grace

I am so glad grace
is a gift
for I have none of my own

Held in the hands and arms
of others
who in their Service
look in my eyes
as I show them my pain
they accept it
acknowledge it
honor it
soul to soul

(c) RCGA 2014


Ten Kisses

Before you leave

stand still and let me kiss you…

because life is short

and kisses are important.


Kiss one is to say I love you.

Kiss two is for that too.


Kiss three is to say be careful

because I worry about you.


Kiss four is just for me

to remember all day,

and Kiss five is to remind you

you’re cherished

more than I can say.


Kiss six is extra special

it is a prayer, you see

to hold you safe the whole day that

you are away from me.


Kiss seven is for comfort

Kiss eight because time flies

Kiss nine is cause you’re beautiful

and a wonder in my eyes.


Kiss ten is by far most important

it’s the one I look forward to

a reminder we’re always together

wherever, whatever we do.


(c) RCGA, 2014

For Christopher Adam Donahue 1979-2014


Like Aquarius
you are perpetual
water flowing from an endless spring.

You have leaped past the finite
into forever,
and you are too bright to look at.

In my mind
you are a jeweled bee
trapped in a globe of golden amber
wings frozen in exquisite poise.

But you have not stood still.

you have sped ahead of me
laughing in the wind from the mountains.

I keep wanting to beg you
to wait and take me with you
but you are already gone
and I can’t run fast enough
to catch up with your evolution.

© RCGA, 2014

In The Absence

Today someone said
we need to learn to love
in the absence of the lover

and I wept.

The Beloved lives in all of us
it is what we see in others
that reflection of light
of awe
of primal joy
of immortality
there to remind us
where we come from
where we are going.

We learn to love
each other
by seeing our own reflection
in the eyes of the lover
without knowing
we are learning
what is beautiful
about ourselves.

Sometimes the lover
cannot dwell with us.

Sometimes it is the wrong time
or the wrong place
or the wrong skins we are dancing in.

Sometimes, though we know
the Beloved resides in them
they do not know it
and though the earth speaks
and trembles hard with passion
the echoes are discordant
and the chasm created
separates us.

Sometimes the lover
escapes their skin
and we must watch
as they fly away
taking their spark
and leaving the clay.

We must strive
in the barely bearable cycle of being
to recall
that the lover
was inside us all along
that the Beloved
never comes or goes
just is.

(c) RCGA, 2014
For Adam

Holding Hands

Yesterday my First Man crossed into forever. He was my best friend, my lover, my house husband, my strength and my delight. He made me a better person just by being himself. He was how lightning strikes twice. There will never be another one like him.

The Mystic Fool

Somewhere past Infatuation

around the corner from all that early excitement

in a quiet cul de sac housing our hearts

we lie together

The blankets are too warm and heavy

because our bodies are as well

Fingers mesh together

weave into a basket

idly thumb wrestling in the afterglow

Somehow I have forgotten

what used to work for me

because I have acquired strange fetishes

that are particularly related to you

The one crazy hair on your belly

Your right nipple

The sound of your completion

I find I am willing

to practice whimsical origami

I find that being with you is like playing

unspoken conversation, code

giggles and raspberries

natural as breathing

natural as pulling up the covers

natural as dozing off to sleep

fingers still entwined

(c) RCGA 2013

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My body is rebellious.
It howls and whimpers,
curls within itself
and refuses to cooperate,
complaining of insults never given.
It rejects cohesiveness,
attempts various anarchic escapes
full of micro dramas:
a rash here,
a fever there,
a fog in the brain,
a frozen shoulder or knee…
followed by catarrh
and purging,
followed by exhaustion
and despair.
There is no escape for either of us,
not if we both want to survive.
How do you love the rebellious one?
How do you teach yourself
to reintegrate a mind
that has become
a keeper, a parent, a master,
with a body
that has become
a traumatized shell of perpetual reaction,
hyperaware, resentful,
constantly absorbed
with its own pain?
With a short leash,
with the soothing comfort of the dark,
with songs of lethe,
with lotuses to eat,
until the rebel
in exhaustion
uncurls both fists,
(c) RCGA 2014

Scratching An Itch

I didn’t mean to start anything
when I asked you to scratch my back…
I just had an itch
that wouldn’t be denied,
and it required
that I shuck my night shirt,
so you could provide due diligence
fore and aft.

(c) 2014 RCGA

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