Dusty corners of my heart and home

steal my attention

as rust accumulates in my bones.

I am frozen.

Reviewing fears, recalculating risk.

Sitting in the question

What is it to dance in the face of death?

Death of all the worldly promises

The lives we were told to achieve

Tirelessly my human mind reaches for meaning everywhere she looks. The puzzle pieces of my life fall together with each passing moment as the narrator inside my head laughs again and says, “I told you so.”

I find myself looking for patterns, creating stories from experience to predict how the…

An arrow, a gun a knife.
Armed voices echo in disturbance
A just uprising — is it so?
Toned, policed. Frozen.
Is it so that this is the way to peace?

The road paved with blood.
Anger like the raging seas
No longer calm at the surface
bubbles and surges from the…

Sinking Ships

To someone who is not grateful there will never be enough

Insatiable endless desire rots in the mind, tangled with self deprecation — fermenting. The two boiled and stewed then projected upon the external world as if that were the source of the disappointment.

Unfortunately it comes from within.

Water, thick with grime gathers at your shins; leaving algae on every surface. The boat is leaking as fast as you bail it out.

To someone who is not grateful you cannot give enough.

We must first patch the boat. And then think about fishing or else the leaches we intended for bait will instead suck our own blood dry.

Start from within.

I lay in bed with a rapist
Asking him to hold me.

His golden hair and honey voice
heck, I guess they sold me.

His silky sheets and milky manner
matched my search for comfort.

I believed for just one night
nothing really could hurt.

And when he peeled my clothes off
pressed himself inside me

I writhed and cried and fought with might
onlookers held the line in spite
of seeing obvious torment
The words I screamed were empty

and still
his tiny dick, did poke and prick
my aching bruising body.

Whence it all was over
I leaped towards the door.
leaving carnage from the night
strewn across the floor

You made the bed, The rapist said,
Don’t come around here no more.

My eyes follow the folds of your darkness
words against white -


My breath suspended as meaning unfolds
into understanding -


My stomach drops as peaks and valleys
play with my pretences -


My body continues to sustain herself
I am unaware -


Because for a moment, in the process of poetry.
I am nothing -

but art.

The horizon dims as my eyes cast down
kneeling to meet the land
Something new comes into focus

Simplicity amidst the complex
dynamic visual patterns explode
from what was once just green

Bouquets of mossy delight
tickle my fingertips
my hand touches the earth

Quick as a water, a single breath
catches my attention
I’m suddenly aware of the entire forest, Awake.
Alive, dancing with the wind.
So too shall I.

Ancient wisdom and great power
present themselves peacefully
as the standing beings produce oxygen
guarding stories of time immemorial

And we are not separate,
The forest and I.
Together animated by all that is
and all that ever was.

I am not beholden to sadness when I remember the simple joys.

The folds of a woman’s body. The strength of a man. The warmth of a cup of tea. The soft laughter of the sunshine as she plays with the light on the on the rocks, tickling my senses…


Expressing deep gratitude for the whirlpools of friendship that continue to row my boat swiftly down the stream. These friend-ships carry me on a ride down the wild river towards the sea. Reminding me evermore that life is but a dream.

Let it be known that I am made…

The chasm of experience blends into knowledge
breathed into the body — burst into life
The ability to see from another direction
To see both ways.

Understanding a treatise.
it is a treat to be understood.
Under where we stood
If it were understood, it would be under where we stand.

Under this standing is the land —
Supported, holding us up. We are held up by understanding.
Held up by understanding, a pivotal function of our community
Enter the realm of belonging.

Understanding our belonging to the Earth
Understanding our belonging to the Waters
Understanding our belonging to the Sky
Understanding our belonging to each other and the Fire
independent of time

A treatise on understanding
Independent of time

Grace Davies

(A) Eudeamaniac: A Good Spirit; Inspires the state of Human Flourishing by challenging the notion of possible . You are Possible. Invoke the Feeling.

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