Poetry 2024

Recent poetry

WELCOME TO ALL KINGDOMS
[20.12.24]

As a wanderer
between worlds,
borders do not
interest me.
We are all one.
With flowing hair
that is starting to
resemble the color of
cigarette ash
I float between the ages:
I am no longer a maiden
but not yet a crone either.
My life is sustained
by the roles I play
as a feminine entity.
I tend to the relationships
in all of the different kingdoms
where my allies reside:
the Stone People
from the mineral kingdom.
the Great Standing Ones
from the plant kingdom.
the spirit animals
from the animal kingdom.
my fellow beings
from the people's kingdom.
and the kingdom of the
world we dream into being:
the world of our becoming.
Welcome!

********

WILLKOMMEN IN ALLEN KÖNIGREICHEN
[20.12.24]

Als ein Wanderer
zwischen den Welten,
interessieren mich Grenzen nicht.
Wir sind alle eins.
Mit wallendem Haar
das langsam
der Farbe von Zigarettenasche
zu ähneln beginnt,
schwebe ich zwischen den Zeiten:
Ich bin keine Jungfrau mehr
aber auch noch keine alte Frau.
Mein Leben wird aufrechterhalten
durch die Rollen, die ich spiele
als weibliches Wesen.
Ich kümmere mich um die Beziehungen
in all den verschiedenen Königreichen
in denen meine Verbündeten residieren:
die Steinmenschen
aus dem Mineralreich.
die Großen Stehenden
aus dem Pflanzenreich.
die Geisttiere
aus dem Tierreich.
meine Mitwesen
aus dem Reich der Menschen.
und das Reich der
Welt, die wir ins Leben träumen:
die Welt unseres Werdens.
Herzlich willkommen!


Part mountain

[15.12.24]


​Observation of our homestar​,

our motherworld

​from afar

​in which humans are

Wearing a "halo" of protons

As a crown.

like atomic nucl​ei

​We are all queens and kings here.


​We bake heart cakes​,

To cover the heart aches.

​We are recalling that

The heart bone

Is the main structure

Of our soul

For it carries the statics

Of our spirit

For our entire life.


Our ancestors assumed

That the light was brought forth

From the womb

Of Mother Earth or

From a great goddess.

These days we

Try to measure the speed

At which light travels

In the universe.


​In earth school

we learn

that

A mountain's minerals

​also floats

In the ​iron of ​our red cells​.

​We a​re part mountain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~


Teil Berg

[15.12.24]


Beobachtung unseres Heimatsterns, 

unsere Mutterwelt

aus der Ferne

in der die Menschen 

Einen „Heiligenschein“ aus Protonen tragen

wie eine Krone.

wie Atomkerne

Hier sind wir alle Königinnen und Könige.


Wir backen Herzkuchen,

um den Herzschmerz zu bedecken.

Wir erinnern uns, dass

Der Herzknochen

die Hauptstruktur 

Unserer Seele ist,

Denn er trägt die Statik

unseres Geistes

für unser ganzes Leben.


Unsere Vorfahren nahmen an,

Dass das Licht 

Aus dem Schoß

von Mutter Erde oder

von einer großen Göttin

hervorgebracht wurde.

Heutzutage versuchen wir

Die Geschwindigkeit 

Mit der sich das Licht 

Im Universum bewegt.

Zu messen.


In der Erdschule 

lernen wir,

dass

Die Mineralien eines Berges

auch 

Im Eisen unserer roten Zellen schweben.

Wir sind zum Teil Berg.


Collision

[11.12.24]


The whole

is greater

than the sum of its parts.

When two of the

strongest storms

collide and fuse

the effects are

far more extreme

that just the effects

of the two added together:

first the ocean gets

extremely agitated.

Then the water movement

gets smoothly reversed.


Perhaps,

with the transformation

humanity is currently going through,

it is time

that the two fronts collide

with all if their fiercest strengths

in order to create

something beautiful 

where we could potentially

evolve

into something

better.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Kollision

[11.12.24]


Das Ganze

ist größer

als die Summe seiner Teile.

Wenn zwei der

stärksten Stürme

kollidieren und verschmelzen

sind die Auswirkungen

weitaus extremer

als nur die Auswirkungen

der beiden Stürme zusammengenommen:

Zunächst wird der Ozean

extrem aufgewühlt.

Dann wird die Wasserbewegung

sanft umgedreht.


Mit der Transformation

die die Menschheit derzeit durchmacht,

ist es vielleicht an der Zeit,

dass die beiden Fronten

mit all ihren Kräften

aufeinanderprallen,

um etwas Schönes zu erschaffen

in dem wir uns potenziell

zu etwas

besserem

weiterentwickeln.



My Medicine 

[09.12.24]


My medicine

is what I contribute

to humanity and all other

animist beings

on this rotating,

orbiting planet.


My medicine

is my smile,

my helping hand,

my listening ear

and the need to be a voice   

for the voiceless.


My medicine

is transforming

the whispers of a stream,

the carress of a breeze

or the scent of composting leaves

into the written word,

so that we can all notice them, too.


My medicine

feeds off kindness

between beings

and the hope for a

fullfilled future

for our children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meine Medizin 

[09.12.24]


Meine Medizin

ist das, was ich beitrage

für die Menschheit und alle anderen

animistischen Wesen

auf diesem rotierenden,

kreisenden Planeten.


Meine Medizin

ist mein Lächeln,

meine helfende Hand,

mein offenes Ohr

und das Bedürfnis, eine Stimme 

für die Stimmlosen zu sein.


Meine Medizin

ist die Verwandlung

des Flüsterns eines Baches,

des Kitzelns einer Brise

oder des Duftes von kompostierenden Blättern

in das geschriebene Wort,

so dass wir sie alle wahrnehmen können.


Meine Medizin

ernährt sich von Freundlichkeit

zwischen den Wesen

und der Hoffnung auf eine

erfüllte Zukunft

für unsere Kinder.



Wintering

[08.12.24]

dense ice

restricts my path

downward

whilst I am walking across

a frozen pond

with my power animal

- I break the ice and I dive.


I dive, fully embodied into the ice-cold,

wet environment

below the ice

until I get the the bottom of the pond

which is covered in composting foliage

and mud.

This is when I remember

the lotus that needs mud to

put down its roots,

to grow into a strong plant and thrive.


I must bury myself in the mud, like my

spirit animal showed me

where I can take the longest nap.

wintering is what we all need right now

but perhaps no one has ever shown me how.


I will slow down, plunge, cover and sleep,

​in the mud bath

I will have time to sit still

and ponder

and convalesce

and heal

and the remember what it is

that matters to me the most.

*******************************

Überwintern

[08.12.24]


dichtes Eis

versperrt mir den Weg

nach unten

während ich

über einen gefrorenen Teich

mit meinem Krafttier schreite

- Ich breche das Eis und tauche.


Ich tauche, voll verkörpert, in die eiskalte,

nasse Umgebung

unter das Eis,

bis ich auf dem Grund des Teiches ankomme

der bedeckt ist mit kompostierendem Laub

und Schlamm.

In diesem Moment erinnere ich mich

an die Lotusblume, die Schlamm braucht,

um ihre Wurzeln zu schlagen,

um zu einer starken Pflanze heranzuwachsen und zu gedeihen.


Ich muss mich im Schlamm eingraben, wie mein

Geisttier mir gezeigt hat

wo ich das längste Nickerchen machen kann.

Überwintern ist das, was wir alle jetzt brauchen

aber vielleicht hat mir noch niemand gezeigt, wie das geht.


Ich werde langsamer werden, eintauchen, zudecken und schlafen,

im Schlammbad

Ich werde Zeit haben, still zu sitzen

und nachzudenken

und mich zu erholen

und zu heilen

und mich daran zu erinnern,

was es ist,

das für mich am wichtigsten ist.



☆☆☆

[04.12.24]

The night melts stars

On the tip of tongues

Of the living.

Sleeping suns

Diffuse the atmosphere of

Rotating planets in orbit.

In the morning

Souls choke on

Stardust and volcanic ash.

Cloud towers leave

Tracks in the sky above,

Like tracks in the sand grains

Of a beach.

I wonder which cloud animal

Left them behind?

Unfortunately,

The general heartache

Of the world

Floods all systems

Yet again.


Prints

[29.11.24]

Preserved footprints

at Lake Turkana, Kenya.

Side by side

or perhaps days apart

but touching and hunting and gathering

on the same muddy lakeshore.

Two hominin species.

No signs of violence,

or those of racism,

No marks of one race

having felt superior over the other.

Not because time wiped them out

but because there simply is no

superiority.

Not in footprints,

not in brain function.

Only Homo sapiens survived.

Perhaps because members of this species

were able to

I M A G I N E.

Where did our imagination go?

Perhaps it fled to

the younger generations only.

To be wiped out once we cross the threshold

to being a 'responsible adult'.

We can achieve great things

when we walk side by side

with our imagination leading us.



DYING STAR 
[27.11.24]


There is a dying giant star
in the large Magellanic cloud
outside my bedroom window.
Its existence is about to end.
How do I come to terms
with a giant dying star
whose existence
did not affect me the slightest
all my life?
It is two thousand times bigger
than our sun.
source of all life on earth.
A Behemoth star,
with an egg-sized cocoon
in its bellied center,
which only appeared
during its last dying phase.
Perhaps, stars, too
metamorphize
once their light is extinguished.
Perhaps, they birth a new
celestial body
after they've shed
their planetoid skin.
Where does its soul 
dissappear to?
Transmuted into what? 


Light workers
[20.11.24]

Some of us
Have very clear and shiny windows
Into our souls
When the eyes reveal
Some intricate lacings
Of our core.

There are
Heart-shaped molluscs
That also carry
Tiny, solid windows
To let in light for
Photosynthetic algae
Inside them.
Their symbiotic relationship
Sustains them both.

So next time
We funnel our light,
To bathe our soul
Or to let others
See us shine
We may remember
The ancient minerals
We are made of;
the nutrients for a healthy life.

And to mind the light blockers
Around us.



Involving hearts

[20.11.24]


Staring

At migrating wild geese

Through our sky light window.

Like aeons before me

People followed them longingly

Questioningly

With their eyes:

"What have you seen?"

"Do people exist peacefully

Next to each other

Where you come from?"

"Do they await your arrival

With joy?"

Using their celestial clues

Like sun and other stars.

Detecting the magnetic field

Of the Earth's molten core.

Following their hearts

And that of our planet.

With that answer

Ask yourself again:

Where am I going to today.

How can I know my destination

In a more and more

Turbulent world?

Should the answer not

Involve hearts?



Wind, Bird, Water

[19.11.24]

sit with the wind

as it whispers of ways

to warm your heart.

listen to songbird

as they see you

for what you are.

recognizing us as kin.

let the rain drops caress your face

and understand

that water is ancient,

it knows neither space nor time,

for our predesessors already consumed it

over and over again

before we did.

the current within us

matches

that of the moon,

phases, ebbs and flows,

energy coming and going.

it is all part of what we are,

for we are all made up of the same stuff

as wind, birds, water.



We are many rivers

[18.11.24]


Today I am

Made up of

Many rivers

Each one of them

Flowing

In the same direction:

Outward.

Away from my eyes,

My pores.

The moon is their conductor.

The mycelium of my heart

Conversed

With all the other hearts

In the room,

Until the eyes of our neighbors

Cried rivers, too.

We are many rivers.

All flowing out to sea.

Our blood is the same

So are our needs, our dreams.

The sound of our voices

Singing lullabies to our babies.

The warmth of our touch

Caressing that bolder.

The uplifting, the outpouring,

The grieving, the H O P E.



Safe harbour

[14.11.24]

Today I am seeking the running streams,

Not the stagnant puddles.

Grand obelisks -

Like suns made of rock

Surround me in this magical place,

Filled with heart and salty air,

Fireflies at night

And secrets only wake minds

Could ever discover.

The last time I came here,

The sea lavender had been

In full bloom.

Now stalks of wilted colour

Greet me.

The beach

Is only a few meters away.

I can hear the gentle waves

Crashing on the rocks.

I imagine crustaceans and

Tiny fish caught in shallow pools

Having to wait for the flood

To be taken away

Into the wide ocean yet again.

Free at last.

Let me swim into your shores

And hope for a safe harbour.


Silent conversation displayed on a transformer station

[13.11.24]

Dropping off our kid

on my way to the train station

each morning,

I pass a small, white

inconspiguous

transformer station.

2 x 2 meter large.

Last week

someone had spray painted there

with blank ink

"Slay the nazi".

The next day

someone in the opposition

painted

the colors of the national flag

of the German "Third Reich"

over it:

Black white red.

Last night

apparently

another stranger drew

a pink heart,

covering

the entire dirty conversation:

Love for all.

Love is strongest.

Love is loudest.

Love remains

after any war.

Stummes Gespräch, angezeigt auf einem Trafohäuschen

[13.11.24]

Auf dem Weg

unser Kind

jeden Morgen zum Bahnhof zu bringen.

Ich komme an einem kleinen, weißen

unauffälligen Trafohäuschen vorbei.

2 x 2 Meter groß.

Letzte Woche

hatte dort jemand

mit schwarzer Tinte

„Schlagt den Nazi tot“

gesprüht.

Am nächsten Tag

malte jemand

aus der Opposition

die Farben der Nationalflagge

des deutschen „Dritten Reiches“

darüber:

Schwarz weiß rot.

Letzte Nacht

zeichnete ein anderer Fremder

offensichtlich

ein rosa Herz darüber,

und deckte damit

das ganze schmutzige Gespräch ab:

Liebe für alle.

Liebe ist am stärksten.

Liebe ist am lautesten.

Die Liebe bleibt

nach jedem Krieg


Out of the dark   
[11.11.24]

The cloud people
are enshrouding
the November sky
for days on end.
No sunray may pierce the veil.
Perhaps, it is their intention
to wrap us up
in a warm bullet grey blanket
to savour
some last summer's heat,
before winter will fully
get hold of us.

I am navigating these deep and troubled waters,
to clear my mind,
to make room for more peace
and love
and nothing else.
I step on this ancestral magma mountain,
I stand on the bone people of those
who came and went before us,
I display my reverence and gratitude
by taking another step forward,
out of the dark.

********
Aus der Dunkelheit heraus

[11.11.24]


Das Wolkenvolk
umhüllt
den Novemberhimmel
tagelang.
Kein Sonnenstrahl darf den Schleier durchdringen.
Vielleicht ist es ihre Absicht
uns in eine warme, kugelgraue Decke
einzuhüllen
um die letzte Wärme des Sommers zu genießen,
bevor der Winter uns voll im Griff hat.

Ich navigiere durch diese tiefen und unruhigen Gewässer,
um meinen Geist zu klären,
um Platz zu schaffen für mehr Frieden
und Liebe
und nichts anderes.
Ich betrete diesen uralten Magmaberg,
ich stehe auf dem Knochenvolk derer
die vor uns kamen und gingen,
Ich zeige meine Ehrfurcht und Dankbarkeit
indem ich einen weiteren Schritt vorwärts mache,
aus der Dunkelheit heraus.


First Water then Fire

[06.11.24]

The rumble of the distant,

Ten o'clock train

In the late evening

Hovering in my room.

The still air carries the sound

Through my open bedroom window.

It is unusually mild

For a mid-October night.

Later, I will be taking a

Ceremonial bath

In the cosmos.

Spread out like butter on toast

My body will melt into the

Porcelain bath tub.

Spanish moss, grey and wavey like

The beard of an ancestor

Gliding down the lorell oak tree,

Giving way to a glimpse

Of the owl nesting securely in a

Thick branch above.

There is no better time than now

For writing down promises

On a piece of paper

And burning them

Ceremoniously.

To let the smoke from my fire

Share the secrets

With all of the other lit fires in the

Entire world.

Secrets being shared nevertheless -

The burden eased somewhat.



DESIRES
[16.10.24]


To thrive -
to not grow
like a tumor;
a festering, parasitic,
all-consuming mass.

To dance -
to not cower,
hide and look away
or change to the other side
of the road   
when witnessing someone
innocent get beat up.

To speak -
to not be silenced ever again
by people more powerful than us.
For what is power anyway
but a cowardly way
of paying for one's meager existence
on the expenses of others' lives.

To love -
to not ever hate.
Tolive with an open heart,
encompassing not only
the weak
but also those who have been
misled.



Switched 'Me' and Dream of Seals

[10.10.24]

Seals plastered my dream.

So many seals.

Strewn across a cool, arctic beach.

Grey, sleek and enormous creatures -

Right there, sunbathing in my path.

What else could I do

But to propell myself

Like a fairy

High up

Into the cool air

Floating above them as they

Looked up at me in awe.

Later on, during the wet October day

The thought occurred to me

That I might have switched myself out

When my sister died.

The propelling, floaty Me

Must have stayed behind,

In someone else's dream.


[08.10.24]

comb jellies,

'sea walnuts'

shimmering like symmetric diamonds 

beneath the ocean's surface where the waves break

can merge

like lovers

in cases of injury.

No rejection,

no apathy,

no fight and no

additional trauma.

just merging into one.

to an extent

that nerve cells integrate,

digestive tracts fuse.

thoughts and fuel are one,

life is being shared,

and no part asks "what am I getting out of this"?



Scrambled thoughts on an ordinary evening

[07.10. 24]

Sitting on a bell buoy.

Singing to the fire all around me.

Fire that keeps me afloat -

Weapon and aid at the same time.

The horror as well as the beauty

Of the land

With all of its ancestors,

playing out simultaneously.

Why reject the dark?

We all became fragmented

When war tore us apart and

Hacked off my rootedness.

All that is left is

A mouthful of blood-soaked earth.

I come from a

Family of storytellers and herbalists.

And I get

Goosebumps around my left hip bone

As I write down these thoughts

Outside the music school,

Whilst observing an evening sky

Filled with hundreds and

Thousands of starlings

Congregating,

Flocking in a great murmuration.

Bedding down for the night

In the cool October breeze.




Missing the exit

[04.10.24]

Ancient trails,

Formed by paths of

Ancient shells, discarded;

So tiny, you scoop up a handful

And you are holding

An entire kingdom

In the palm of your hand.


In the 19th century

Men were lowered

into mining shafts

by hand

To set explosives.

Now you might as well

Consider the same amount

Of danger,

Living an ordinary life.

Just living

In the Western world.


Love letters to the ocean,

I watch them float until they reach

The most Northern regions of

Eternal ice floats,

Where they sink to the bottom

Into the depths of frozen imprisonment

Where movement and exertion

Are almost impossible.

Here I will bleed but I won't pray.

Remembering that my inner magician

Will be picking up the crumbs of my life,

Filling in the empty spaces

Of the puzzle

With love and attention.


Fall is spilling her subdued light

onto the wounded earth this morning.

She carries deep scars

From our machinery

Until she will simply give up,

Producing no longer

What we ask of her.

The soil will lie bare and

Nutrients will have vanished

Into corners of the earth

Where they are still being honored

And regularly thanked for

Acting as canaries in a coal mine -

Whilst we missed their exit

A long time ago.



Spirit floats

[01.10.24]

An aeroplane slices

the poppy seed sky

in half,

as if it was a grand birthday cake

on display.

Filigran cloud formations

dominate an end-of-September morning.

For the spirit that lives.

Spirit that feeds itself

that grows more limbs,

more faces than one

spirit that dances in thin air

and breathes aliveness into it.

Like tallow left out in the sun

spirit thaws, melts, spills

across all matter

and feeds it.

Like eternal fields of ice

with floats that never sink

due to their buoyancy

spirit, too has physical laws

that keep it alive and growing.

Absent ancestors

like absent friends -

Our children's song is the song

Our ancestors wove into

Veins of a mountain

and left them for us to mine

during a lifetime.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Floße des Geistes

Ein Flugzeug durchschneidet

den Mohnhimmel

in zwei Hälften,

als wäre er eine große,

zur Schau gestellte

Geburtstagstorte.

Filigrane Wolkengebilde

dominieren einen Morgen

am Ende des Septembers.

Für den Geist, der lebt.

Der Geist, der sich selbst nährt

der mehr Glieder wachsen lässt,

mehr Gesichter als eines.

Der Geist, der in der dünnen Luft tanzt

und ihr Lebendigkeit einhaucht.

Wie Talg, der in der Sonne liegt,

taut der Geist auf, schmilzt, schwappt

über alle Materie

und nährt sie.

Wie ewige Felder aus Eis

mit Flossen, die

aufgrund ihres Auftriebs

niemals sinken,

hat auch der Geist physikalische Gesetze,

die ihn am Leben erhalten und wachsen lassen.

Abwesende Vorfahren

wie abwesende Freunde -

Das Lied unserer Kinder ist das Lied

Unserer Vorfahren,

gewebt in die

Adern eines Berges

und hinterlassen für uns zum Abbau

- ein Leben lang.


Journey of extraction and building a strong connection with a beech tree

[28.09.24]

In my journey I went up on a beech tree and I was a bee in a bee hive. I felt the warmth and the buzzing in that beehive and all around me. It was very bright there and I felt very safe and secure. Then I transfered into the tree where the sap was rising and it was carrying me all the way to the top of the beech tree. High above the tip of the tree I met ostrich and ostrich said "you need an extraction". So he carried out an extraction on me by hovering above me and enclosing, wrapping me up under his wings. He took his beak and he reached into my throat deep deep down and he took out all this black material and kept sucking it out of me, out of the insides of my body. Frog came as well and he was watching us. He commented "Now you have to fill up her empty spaces with something" and ostrich replied "sure" and he produced an ostrich egg and now we were sitting around the base of the beech tree - ostrich, frog and I. We lit up a fire and I cracked the egg on a flat rock and cooked it together with some mushrooms that were produced over the open fire. A mushroom omelette. As I was still drumming, the Shaman of Bad Duerrenberg arrived with her deer antler head dress on. I recognized her. She said she was called by the sound of my drum. Frog, ostrich and I said our good byes as we went down to the roots of the tree and into frog's cave. Here I thanked my spirit animals for all they did for me. During my journey I had to open my eyes a few times and check to the left of me as it felt as if there was a snake slithering and listening to me drumming but I saw nothing. Also, I gazed up at the trees surrounding me during the journey. At the end of the journey, my drumming slowed way down (as if by itself, I was being guided) and I was actually leaning against that tree. Suddenly, the tops of my ears started to burn up and became so very hot. I was vibrating with the tree. I was definetely connected to the tree and we both produced the same frequency of vibration and a humming noise that went through and through the both of us. I could not define whether the tree produced it and gave it to me or I gave it to the tree but certainly we were so interconnected at that moment. It was the vibration coming out of that connection that proved to me how connected we were.


Remember

[23.09.24]

In space

Bacteria

Have shown

To evolve

New traits

To survive

In low Earth orbit.

What will we do

Once life

On the planet

Has changed

Into oblivion?

Will we grow

Rabbit ears

To finally listen with?

The forked tongue

Of as snake,

The talon of an eagle,

The brain of an elephant

Who remembers.

Who always remembers.

Humans do not

Seem to be

Very good

At remembering.

Nature gifts us

With epigenetics

- and still -

Times feel close to

Pre-war conditions,

Before we almost

Blew up Earth.

After the planet's ring

Vanished from orbit.

A ring Earth was left with

To carry along

For hundred thousands of years

After a collision.

Perhaps we are

Collaterally damaged

After all.


Garden observations on the eve of the fall equinox

[21.09.24]

Finely ground up sorrow.

Finding a soft place to fall.

In a place too bright for redemption,

Too cheerful for shame.

There is simply no room for those.

Even what falls through the cracks

Decomposes and goes to seed again.

In a constant cycle of death and rebirth

There is no real sense in weeping.

Perhaps for temporary release, only.

Even the deepest wishing well

Will dry up one day,

Only old coins remain on the bottom

From too many hopes gone awry.

You are probably

Better off saving that money

And fulfilling those dreams yourself.

******************************

Gartenbeobachtungen am Vorabend der Herbst-Tagundnachtgleiche

[21.09.24]

Fein zermahlener Kummer.

Der einen weichen Platz zum Fallen findet.

An einem Ort, der zu hell für Erlösung ist,

Zu fröhlich für Schande.

Es ist einfach kein Platz für dies.

Selbst was durch die Ritzen fällt

Zersetzt sich und geht wieder in die Saat.

In einem ständigen Kreislauf von Tod und Wiedergeburt

Hat das Weinen keinen wirklichen Sinn.

Vielleicht nur zur vorübergehenden Erleichterung.

Selbst der tiefste Wunschbrunnen

wird eines Tages austrocknen,

Nur alte Münzen bleiben auf dem Grund,

Von zu vielen fehlgeschlagenen Hoffnungen.

Es ist wohl besser, das Geld zu sparen

und dir deine Träume selbst zu erfüllen.


The cape of a queen

[19.09.24]

When the skeleton of the moon

Descends the heavenly stairs

And kneels down for a picnic

Of algea, mushrooms, lichen and moss

You know that it is time

To check your systems again.

How are you feeling today?

Are your senses intact?

Is your mind clear and rested?

What we imagine becomes our reality

Here and now.

Don't you see?

You could be a great hero tomorrow,

A bridge-builder, peace-maker.

You can lead by example.

Your truth will become reality.

If only you let it.

The moon has feasted for now.

She gathers the crumbs and weaves

A night gown for the fields and meadows.

A blanket for badger and deer.

An entrance door to entice the little folk

To keep them safely hidden away.

You keep spinning your own yarn

For tomorrow you could wear

The cape of a queen.


Feast for the little folk

[18.09.24]

When the tilt of the sun

Pours golden light

Onto the earth

And the last stalks of corn

Have been felled

By the big rumbling machines,

It is time for the small folk

To come entering

The harvested places.

They look underneath pear trees,

Peep into abandoned mouse holes

For kernels of grain.

They build slides with husks

And compete with

The call of the cranes

As they gather.

Mother said we need to leave

A bowl out with our supper.

We write letters of gratitude

By candlelight.

Decorate them

With remnants

Of last year's spider webs,

Gather the dusk in jars

And the dawn in

Containers with earthen ware lids.

We invite the little folk

To feast with us.

Unseen, as they remain.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fest für die kleinen Leute

[18.09.24]

Wenn die Neigung der Sonne

Goldenes Licht

Auf die Erde gießt

Und die letzten Halme des Korns

Von den großen rumpelnden Maschinen

Geköpft werden,

Ist es Zeit für die kleinen Leute

Die geernteten Felder zu betreten.

Sie schauen unter Birnenbäume,

spähen in verlassene Mäuselöcher

nach Getreidekörnern.

Sie bauen Rutschen aus Hülsen

Und wetteifern mit

Dem Ruf der Kraniche

Während sie sich versammeln.

Mutter sagte, wir müssen

Eine Schale mit unserem Abendessen

Draussen lassen.

Wir schreiben Briefe der Dankbarkeit

Bei Kerzenlicht.

Verzieren sie

Mit Überresten

Von Spinnennetzen des letzten Jahres,

Sammeln die Abenddämmerung in Gläsern

Und die Morgendämmerung in

Behältern mit irdenen Deckeln.

Wir laden die kleinen Leute

Zum Festmahl mit uns ein.

Ungesehen, wie sie bleiben


ASSOCIATION

[11.09.24]

Cloud atlas.

Brain atlas.

Atlas of the heart.

Storm clouds in my coffee cup.

Coffee to go.

Coffee grounds to fend off potato beetles.

No potatoes for us this year.

Yearly turning of the season.

A seasoned life.

Season of fall.

Fallen to the ground.

Grounding through soul work.

Soul atlas.

A mapping of where to go

When storm clouds brew in my nested soul.

Protecting it from intrusions.

Principles and advice are needed sometimes of how to

Find the way out of the emotional maze.

I take my coffee, place it in front of me.

Use the fork to push some fried potatoes in my mouth.

Watch maple leaves fall.

Think about what kind of map it is

I need today

And where to find it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ASSOZIATION

[11.09.24]

Wolken-Atlas.

Gehirn-Atlas.

Atlas des Herzens.

Sturmwolken in meiner Kaffeetasse.

Kaffee zum Mitnehmen.

Kaffeesatz zur Abwehr von Kartoffelkäfern.

Keine Kartoffeln für uns dieses Jahr.

Jährlicher Wechsel der Jahreszeit.

Ein gereiftes Leben.

Jahreszeit des Herbstes.

Auf den Boden gefallen.

Erdung durch Seelenarbeit.

Seelenatlas.

Eine Landkarte, wohin ich gehen soll

Wenn sich Sturmwolken in meiner Seele zusammenbrauen.

Sie vor Eindringlingen zu schützen.

Manchmal sind Prinzipien und Ratschläge nötig, wie man

den Weg aus dem emotionalen Labyrinth findet.

Ich nehme meinen Kaffee und stelle ihn vor mich hin.

Benutze die Gabel, um mir Bratkartoffeln in den Mund zu schieben.

Beobachte, wie die Ahornblätter fallen.

Denke darüber nach, welche Art von Karte

ich heute brauche

Und wo ich sie finden kann.


PARACHUTES OF HOPE

[10.09.24]

in the empty spaces

inside

I am filled

with dandelion seeds.

spirit animal filled the holes

with seeds of lion's tooth,

created by extraction

of bad energies.

I felt it happening

as the rattle hovered gently

over my entire body.

as I felt the fluttering

of a hummingbird

against the insides

of my rib cage.

now the tufts

make me feel lighter,

detoxified,

like yellow sunshine,

optimism and happiness

flowing through me.

messages from spirit,

like arrows -

parachutes of hope,

wishes of finding solace

in the ever-shifting

cycles of life.

I was there, I saw it happening.

I felt the healing.

I heard their whisperings

of the wispy seeds.

They are my witness.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

FALLSCHIRME DER HOFFNUNG

[10.09.24]

in den leeren Räumen

im Innen

bin ich gefüllt

mit Löwenzahnsamen.

Das Krafttier füllte die Löcher

mit Samen des Löwenzahns,

geschaffen durch Extraktion

von schlechten Energien.

Ich fühlte, wie es geschah

als die Rassel sanft über

über meinen ganzen Körper schwebte.

als ich das Flattern der Flügel

eines Kolibris

gegen die Innenseite

meines Brustkorbs spürte.

jetzt helfen mir die Büschel,

dass ich mich leichter,

entgiftet fühle,

wie gelber Sonnenschein,

Optimismus und Glück

die durch mich fließen.

Botschaften der Seele,

wie Pfeile -

Fallschirme der Hoffnung,

Wünsche, Trost zu finden

in den sich ständig wandelnden

Zyklen des Lebens.

Ich war dabei, ich sah es geschehen.

Ich habe die Heilung gespürt.

Ich hörte das Flüstern

der hauchdünnen Samen.

Sie sind mein Zeuge.


[07.09.24]

Written near the Baltic sea in Germany

Someone's lovely blue postcard

Functioning as my new bookmark

when I read

"Love notes from the hollow tree".

Flowers and grasses in seed

Pressed between the pages,

Planting by reading

- providing more of a

Reality-feeling

When I internalize crafted words

About moss, owls, horizons and

A temporary healer for depression.

The liquid in my spider mug

Dilutes the meaning of the

Poems somewhat

So I don't get murdered right away

When their intensity hits me.

Like the drink I let it all brew

Before I digest.

But first a smile in my heart

And a raised eye brow in my face.

My soul longing to

Go out there soon

And see it all for myself.


HOSTING SOULS

[07.09.24]

The soul recuperates

When it takes flight

With the first moon beam

And travels.

It travels to

Distant lands

Of fairy tales and spices,

Of fires in the shade of exotic trees

And friendly folk

Reaching out to touch our souls.

For they speak to them,

All clean and innocent.

We all host each other's souls at night.

Perhaps the wing that I caught

In my dreams was your feathery spirit

Looking for solace.

The night cools, it purifies

The grief from our pores.

Replenishes us with new hopes,

New thoughts, new creative sparks.

I offer you a place

For your soul to rest this night.

Please take mine in return

And handle it with care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BEHERBERGENDE SEELEN

[07.09.24]

Die Seele erholt sich

Wenn sie die Flucht ergreift

Mit dem ersten Mondstrahl

Und reist.

Sie reist in

Ferne Länder

Von Märchen und Gewürzen,

Von Feuern im Schatten exotischer Bäume

Und freundlichen Menschen

die unsere Seelen berühren wollen.

Denn sie sprechen zu ihnen,

Ganz rein und unschuldig.

Wir alle beherbergen nachts die Seelen der anderen.

Vielleicht war der Flügel, den ich

In meinen Träumen fand, dein gefiederter Geist

Auf der Suche nach Trost.

Die Nacht kühlt, sie reinigt

den Kummer aus unseren Poren.

Füllt uns mit neuen Hoffnungen,

Neuen Gedanken, neuen kreative Funken.

Ich biete dir einen Ort

für deine Seele, um diese Nacht zu ruhen.

Bitte nimm im Gegenzug die meine

Und behandle sie mit Sorgfalt.


[06.09.24]

Like a fawn

Dreaming his dream

During a sweltering summer night

- dreaming of being a mighty stag,

Who gracefully strides

Through the forest -

Our little girls

Dream of their independence

That they'll have reached one day.

What they do not know yet

(Or do not realize) is that

Independence comes with

Committment:

To wash your own dishes, the laundry.

To answer the phone,

Even if it will be an unpleasant caller

On the line.

To ask for help, after swallowing

Your pride

Before breaking down.

To pay bills, even if you'd rather

Buy a new book

Or a concert ticket that month.

We all had to figure it out

One way or another.

Only the fawn remains

Unshackled by societal restraints.

Following his biology, his hunger,

His dreams!


Raw reflection on my sister's life   

[03.09.24]

she had to listen to her grandmother weep

on the gurney

after the terrible stroke

that left her left side paralyzed,

whose moans were incomprehendible.

she had to bury a number of unborn children and ideas,

turn heartbroken men away during misty nights,

clothe herself in a relentless smile,

exercising gentle power over

her fellow human beings

in order to survive.

she had to put her therapeutic qualities aside

when her children entered her world.

instead practiced on loved ones nearby.

always waiting for the right time

to jump back on the gravy train.

then she had to swallow her pride

when they first took one of her breasts,

then her hair,

her wholeness.

the constant pain,

reminding her of the

mistake during the act of creation someone must have made.

at the end, her dignity never left,

neither did our love for her.

we continue to see her smile and feel her warmth and kiss her cheeks -

in dreams.

******************************

Rohe Reflexion über das Leben meiner Schwester

sie musste ihrer Großmutter beim Weinen zuhören

auf der Bahre

nach dem schrecklichen Schlaganfall

der ihre linke Seite lahmgelegt hatte,

deren Stöhnen unverständlich war.

Sie musste eine Reihe von ungeborenen Kindern und Ideen begraben,

in nebligen Nächten Männer mit gebrochenem Herzen abweisen,

sich in ein unerbittliches Lächeln kleiden,

sanfte Macht

ihren Mitmenschen gegenüber ausüben

um zu überleben.

Sie musste ihre therapeutischen Qualitäten zurückstellen,

als ihre Kinder ihre Welt betraten.

stattdessen übte sie an den geliebten Menschen in ihrer Nähe.

Sie wartete immer auf den richtigen Zeitpunkt

um wieder auf den Geldzug aufzuspringen.

dann musste sie ihren Stolz herunterschlucken

als man ihr erst die Brust abnahm,

dann ihr Haar,

ihre Ganzheitlichkeit.

Der ständige Schmerz,

der sie an den Fehler erinnerte,

den Fehler, den jemand während des Schöpfungsaktes gemacht haben muss.

Am Ende hat sie ihre Würde nie verloren,

und wir unsere Liebe zu ihr auch nicht.

wir sehen weiterhin ihr Lächeln,

spüren ihre Wärme und küssen ihre Wangen -

in Träumen.


Tree woman or "the naked truth"

[31.08.24]

Half woman, half tree

I see the world with transformative eyes today.

Almost transluscent, emerald green skin -

metamorphosized bi-directionally:

The tree turned into a women and

I turned into a tree.

By stepping into my power

like "truth coming out of her well"

when in 1896 Gérôme brought her to life.

The naked truth.

Claiming my own power.

I am intertwined with all around us,

your pain is my pain

and my grief is yours.

Like a night sky filled with endless stars

sparkling like amber in a paleolithic fire

my possibilities are vast.

It takes me to give them direction and meaning.

All I need to do is to think the thought,

to speak the word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baumfrau oder „die nackte Wahrheit“

[31.08.24]

Halb Frau, halb Baum

Sehe ich die Welt heute mit veränderten Augen.

Fast durchscheinende, smaragdgrüne Haut -

metamorphosiert in beide Richtungen:

Der Baum verwandelte sich in eine Frau und

ich verwandelte mich in einen Baum.

Indem ich in meine Kraft trete,

wie „die Wahrheit, die aus ihrem Brunnen kommt“

als Gérôme sie 1896 zum Leben erweckte.

Die nackte Wahrheit.

Ich beanspruche meine eigene Kraft.

Ich bin mit allem um uns herum verwoben,

dein Schmerz ist mein Schmerz

und mein Kummer ist der deine.

Wie ein Nachthimmel voller endloser Sterne

funkelnd wie Bernstein in einem paläolithischen Feuer

sind meine Möglichkeiten unermesslich.

Es liegt an mir, ihnen eine Richtung und einen Sinn zu geben.

Alles, was ich tun muss, ist,

den Gedanken zu denken,

das Wort zu sprechen.


44 AND 6

[31.08.24]

still waters of a nearby pond:

they are reflecting the snaring shapes of night sky clouds.

there I also see myself

on the muddy bottom of the water.

my dreams, my wishes, my bareness -

with soul pieces exposed for the world to see,

hanging off me like flakey patches of skin.

Unattractive to most.

I want it like that.

I feel gratitude for the hunger inside,

that is driving me to strive and to dive deeper.

going beyond what I ever thought was possible,

also to search for you -

who you are only on the other side

of the path. Waiting for us.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

44 UND 6

[31.08.24]

Die stillen Wasser eines nahe gelegenen Teiches:

In ihnen spiegeln sich die verschlungenen Formen der Nachtwolken.

Dort sehe ich auch mich selbst

auf dem schlammigen Grund des Wassers:

meine Träume, meine Wünsche, meine Nacktheit -

mit Seelenstücken, die für die Welt sichtbar sind,

die an mir hängen wie schlaffe Hautfetzen.

Unattraktiv für die meisten.

Ich will es so haben.

Ich empfinde Dankbarkeit für den Hunger in mir,

der mich antreibt, zu streben und tiefer einzutauchen.

über das hinauszugehen, was ich je für möglich gehalten habe,

auch um nach dir zu suchen -

die du nur auf der anderen Seite

des Weges bist. Auf uns wartend.


SILKEN THREAD

[29.08.24]

When I was quite young -

perhaps 8 or 9 -

I often imagined

an invisible silken thread,

More like an enormously long single hair

attached to one of my ankles.

Whichever bend I took,

However many times I'd cross a road,

A field

It would be there

Attached to me.

I believed that one of these days

it would no longer give way

and let me run around freely

but that I would have to face the source of it all.

Today, I know the origin.

It is the invisible thread to my ancestors

From so long ago

That I felt then.

That I feel now.

■■■■■■■

SEIDENER FADEN

[29.08.24]

Als ich noch recht jung war -

vielleicht 8 oder 9 -

stellte ich mir oft

einen unsichtbaren seidenen Faden vor,

eher wie ein enorm langes einzelnes Haar,

der an einen meiner Knöchel gebunden war.

Egal, um welche Biegung ich mich drehte,

Wie oft ich auch eine Straße überquerte,

ein Feld -

Es war immer da

An mir befestigt.

Ich glaubte, dass es eines Tages

nicht mehr weichen 

und mich frei herumlaufen lassen würde,

sondern dass ich mich dem Ursprung des Ganzen stellen müsste.

Heute kenne ich diesen Ursprung.

Es ist die unsichtbare Verbindung zu meinen Vorfahren

von vor so langer Zeit

Die ich damals fühlte.

Die ich jetzt fühle.


WHEN FAE DANCES

[24.08.24]

The translucency

of fairy wings

on my skin

when she dances for me

in the dark woods.

Her breath

like musical notes,

seducing me on the spot.

I weep

for this amount of beauty

has been unknown to me so far.

A realm I can only enter

during lucid dreaming.

The light here is dim,

and yet

I see the rainbow she carries

within her.

Ready at any moment

to gift me with a color.

Which one will it be today?

Everything that encompasses a soul

is spread out right here

infront of me.

I grab it with the muscles

of my beating heart.

And welcome life in my chambers.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

WENN DIE FEE TANZT

[24.08.24]

Die Lichtdurchlässigkeit

von Feenflügeln

auf meiner Haut,

wenn sie für mich tanzt

in den dunklen Wäldern.

Ihr Atem

wie musikalische Noten,

der mich auf der Stelle verführt.

Ich weine

denn dieses Ausmaß an Schönheit

war mir bis jetzt unbekannt.

Ein Reich, das ich nur

während des luziden Träumens betreten kann.

Das Licht hier ist düster,

und doch

sehe ich den Regenbogen, den sie

in sich trägt.

Jeden Moment bereit

mich mit einer Farbe zu beschenken.

Welche wird es heute sein?

Alles, was eine Seele ausmacht

ist genau hier

vor mir ausgebreitet.

Ich ergreife es mit den Muskeln

meines schlagenden Herzens.

Und heiße das Leben in meinen Kammern willkommen.


The Ones behind us

[22.08.24]

We are to mother our own insecurities

To cradel the shame and the darkness,

To hold all of that ancestral pain

Gently in our arms and

To rock it like a newborn -

Soothing it to a calmer state of being.

A more receptive, accessible state,

Where wounds are given a chance to

Scab over.

Where harsh words that had once been spoken

Lose their death grip which only made us fawn with fear.

For to heal means providing a welcoming home

To all of these emotions.

The extend of dedication and the giving of

Gratitude does not know borders.

Not borders of country, continent

Nor planetary.

We are here not because we asked to be

But because people from the lineage

We have been born into

Provided and created the circumstances

For our conception.

They are the stone masons

That paved the roads leading up to our birth.

Paved them with their stories, their songs

Their sweat and their blood.

Paved them with their talents and predispositions,

Their dedication, appearance and also

Each one with their bottomless pit

Of emotions,

Built up over their life times.

Now we, too, add to that cauldron

Our own spice of life.

Let us not burn the dish,

Not add too much of this or that.

Let's leave a stew for our decendants

That is edible, delicious even.


Animistic morning of emotional outpour

[22.08.24]

The desperate howling of those 4 wolf hounds

from across the street:

sometimes they sound like overexcited children

on the Eve of Christmas,

giggling and singing carols.

Other times their song sounds like the deepest grief.

The noisy chatter of a large flock of starlings

somewhere in the village:

It stops abruptly and starts again

as if mirroring waves from a vast ocean.

Perhaps, they are also expressing their happiness

about the abundance

on trees, on bushes, in hedges   

to be found at this time of the year:

blackberries, apples and pears.

Ripe tomatoes that have split in half

on the vine from being rained on too much, too heavily.

Their insides exposed to the world,

juice running down their round red bodies,

some of them have formed a new thin membrance

where the wound used to be.

That is the thing that surprises me the most

every now and then when I stop to think about it:

how the world continues to spin on its axis,

hurdling itself through a vast space of nothingness

whilst things on the planet simply go and on on

despite al the pain, despite the great missing.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Animistischer Morgen voller Gefühlsausbrüche

[22.08.24]

Das verzweifelte Heulen der 4 Wolfshunde

von der anderen Straßenseite:

manchmal klingen sie wie überreizte Kinder

am Vorabend von Weihnachten,

die kichern und Weihnachtslieder singen.

Ein anderes Mal klingt ihr Gesang wie tiefster Kummer.

Das laute Geschnatter eines großen Schwarmes Stare

irgendwo im Dorf:

Es hört abrupt auf und fängt wieder an

als würde es die Wellen eines großen Ozeans widerspiegeln.

Vielleicht drücken sie damit auch ihre Freude aus

über die Fülle

an Bäumen, Sträuchern, in Hecken   

die zu dieser Jahreszeit zu finden sind:

Brombeeren, Äpfel und Birnen.

Reife Tomaten, die vom Regen in zwei Hälften geteilt wurden

weil es zu viel und zu stark geregnet hat.

Ihr Inneres ist der Welt ausgesetzt,

Saft rinnt über ihre runden roten Körper,

einige von ihnen haben eine neue dünne Hülle gebildet

wo früher die Wunde war.

Das ist die Sache, die mich am meisten überrascht

wenn ich hin und wieder darüber nachdenke:

wie sich die Welt weiter um ihre Achse dreht,

sich durch einen riesigen Raum des Nichts schleudert

während die Dinge auf dem Planeten einfach weitergehen und weitergehen

trotz all des Schmerzes, trotz des großen Vermissens.


5 minute drift off

[20.08.24]

The blue ocean color is my landmark

- literally -

When once again,

I drift through space

In an open bucket,

Which I drew from

My very own deep well.

There is only silence out here.

Creating distance from the planet

Was a temporary solution

To all those wars and hatered,

I found.

But the crash landing earlier

Is all the harder

For no one missed me,

No one is cheering for my return

To this insanity

That people call "life".

Did the short trip

Take away

My sarcasm?

The bitter taste in my mouth?

Perhaps.

Did it erase my loyalty to humanity?

I believe so.

Would I escape again?

You bet I would.


08.08.24]

Bone woman -

Trinket of my wildest dreams,

I heard your whispers in the wind today,

When the weeping willow

Swayed her bendy branches,

And shook her finger-long leaves across the pond.

Beckoning for me to sit still,

To listen.

Bone woman -

You are creator and instrument

At the same time.

Your music floats across the salty dark earth

And rests deep in the crevices of caves

Long gone unlit, where fires pits have gone cold.

What is it you need me to know?

When the golden glimmer of your eyes

Stabbed my heart right at the spot and I heard

The swish of your wolvish proud tail

underneath that luminous skirt made of peacock feathers,

I knew you'd come to deliver a message.

It is neither your appearance

Nor your presence that is to alarm me.

But your song which you need me to hear.

Ancient notes of long-forgotten times,

Witnessing the entanglement of wild women's souls;

With softly spun threads of spider webbings,

With moon blood, birthing cries, nurturing broth.

This is what we've come here for, today.

To hear your song.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

08.08.24

Knochenfrau -

Das Schmuckstück meiner wildesten Träume,

Ich hörte heute dein Flüstern im Wind,

Als die Trauerweide

ihre biegsamen Äste schwenkte,

Und ihre fingerlangen Blätter über den Teich schüttelte.

Mich aufforderte, still zu sitzen,

Zu lauschen.

Knochenfrau -

Du bist Schöpferin und Instrument

zugleich.

Deine Musik schwebt über die salzig dunkle Erde

Und ruht tief in den Spalten der Höhlen

Längst unbeleuchtet, wo die Feuergruben kalt geworden sind.

Was ist es, das du mich wissen lassen willst?

Als der goldene Schimmer deiner Augen

Auf der Stelle in mein Herz einstach

und ich das Zischen deines wölfisch stolzen Schwanzes

unter dem leuchtenden Rock aus Pfauenfedern hörte,

wusste ich, dass du gekommen warst, um eine Nachricht zu überbringen.

Es war weder dein Aussehen

noch deine Anwesenheit, die mich beunruhigen sollte.

Sondern dein Lied, das du mich hören lassen willst.

Alte Töne aus längst vergessenen Zeiten,

Zeuge der Verstrickung der Seelen wilder Frauen;

Mit sanft gesponnenen Fäden von Spinnennetzen,

Mit Mondblut, Geburtsschreien, nährender Brühe.

Deswegen sind wir heute hierher gekommen.

Um dein Lied zu hören.


ANIMAL CHRISTMAS

[08.08.24]

when we were little

my father did not really know

what to do with his 2 small daughters.

We did not get to spent a lot of time together then.

So Christmas always came as a surprise

when he saddled the horse,

put our 2 dogs on long leashes,

have us dress up warm and snug

and that is how we left

our 250 year old thatched roof

and a mother to tend to

the Christmas meal of goose,

dumplings and red cabbage.

She also had to set the table,

perhaps wrap a last present or two.

Meanwhile, my sister, my father,

the animals and I were trodding

through snow or on frozen ground

in our winter boots all laced up

to our necks so moving would be

a chore.

Along the river, then the lake we went.

All across the bare field

where in summer time cows would graze or

stood in muddy ponds to get some relieve from the heat.

"Animal Christmas" he'd call it.

We never seemed to run out of topics on these walks.

Between breaths. Between Christmases.


Story by the stream

[01.08.24]

Listening to what the stream had to say:

This afternoon

A fish that had swallowed a miniature me whole,

Was showing me through his eyes

What life in a stream is like.

The business, the never arriving anywhere.

The sucking on algea, the constant gurgling sound.

I had always assumed that being on the go,

Moving all the time

Is how you live your life,

When in fact standing still,

Not moving our fins at all

But drifting,

Makes life happen on its own anyway -

Lets the water rush by

And with it all the sediments and minerals

Are washing my body clean from leeches

And parasites.


[31.07.24]

Bone structure of my heart /

like a flute's song /

played across an azure-blue lake /

revibrating in the wavelets of my soul /

taken in as a friend by the cool night.


An afternoon by the lake

[30.07.24]

Little lifeless crawfish

Found under a rock

Near the shore of the emerald and

Coffee-stained lake.

The gentle waves carry cold liquid,

Which for only a moment

Wash away the sorrows of the day.

Long strokes with arms,

Legs moving accordingly.

Sea gulls gather on a sand bank.

I am watching their comings and goings,

The hunting and sitting still.

The anatomy of a lake

Involves hills and valleys

And a large body made

Purely of water alone.

Similar to that of you and of me.

Habitat. Home to many.

The scent it gives off

Is soothingly familiar.

We bury the crawfish

Under a large lilipad leaf

And soak up some more

Of that nourishing sun.

The silence.

The mere being.

The peace.



Walking on shards of moon light

Carrying the weight of the world

On our shoulders:

The effects we created and which we

Now leave behind

For all our kin, for all eternity.


Mountain song

[16.07.24]

You can hear

A mountain speak -

The rumbling of his rocky words,

The exhaling at the zenith.

Snakes slithering between sharp

Pointy edges of a cliff.

The danger of slipping, falling

Shouted at you with every

Unsteady step you take.

The gorges - evidently thirsty -

They will quench their need with

Your blood if needed to.

The occasional cave speaks volumes:

With its generational shelter,

Evidence in bone fragments,

A red ochre painting bowl

Left near the fire pit;

Thousands and thousands

Of years old.

Will the mountain lick

The salty tears off our faces

When we fall?

Or is he saturated already

With his own hidden white gold?

The mountain folk will know.

Go and seek their wisdom,

Their easement through

Loosening the expectations

And finding temporary happiness

In the oxygen-rich air closer to the ground.

Or the cooler temperatures

In the shade of the shrubs.

And the clay pots -

Don't even get me started on the

Precious containers.


voices

[11.07.24]

slow as runny lavender honey

time runs down my spine today.

all limbs stretched out and worn.

an ache emenating from the pit of my stomach.

my spirits hiding under the unmade blankets of the bed.

it is not always so -

but when the grief of the world overwhelms me, swallows me up whole

under its current of wars and hatred and multigenerational trauma

the entire world seems to drown inside of me

and I must surrender.

give in.

hand myself over to the terror,

facing my helplessness, the fact that I play such a little part.

once I have regained my senses,

once the blood rushes back into my brain, my extremeties

I realize yet again

that our role in all of this

is to be a witness, and to write about it,

like Mary Oliver once so poignantly said.

for that I must recognize that I have a voice

a voice even mute people know how to apply,

the voice of forgiveness, the voice of hope, the voice of love.

°°°°°°°°°

Stimmen

[11.07.24]

langsam wie flüssiger Lavendelhonig

rinnt mir die Zeit heute die Wirbelsäule hinunter.

alle Glieder gestreckt und abgenutzt.

Ein Schmerz, der aus der Magengrube aufsteigt.

meine Geister verstecken sich unter den ungemachten decken des Bettes.

es ist nicht immer so -

aber wenn der Kummer der Welt mich überwältigt, mich ganz verschluckt

unter dem Strom der Kriege und des Hasses und des generationenübergreifenden Traumas,

scheint die ganze Welt in mir zu ertrinken

und ich muss kapitulieren.

nachgeben.

mich dem Terror ausliefern,

mich meiner Hilflosigkeit stellen,

der Tatsache, dass ich eine so kleine Rolle spiele.

Sobald ich wieder zu Sinnen gekommen bin,

wenn das Blut wieder in mein Gehirn, in meine Gliedmaßen fließt,

erkenne ich einmal mehr,

dass unsere Rolle in all dem ist,

Zeuge zu sein und darüber zu schreiben,

wie Mary Oliver einmal so treffend sagte.

Dazu muss ich erkennen, dass ich eine Stimme habe

eine Stimme, die sogar stumme Menschen zu nutzen wissen,

die Stimme der Vergebung, die Stimme der Hoffnung, die Stimme der Liebe.



To love somebody

Involves opening up to them

Like a spring flower.

Each petal -

One admission, one sin, one weakness.

As we expose ourselves

We may seem vulnerable

But only in this condition of rawness

And pure love

Are we able to fully scoop up

And appreciate

From the bottom of the eternal well

That which we have come for:

Understanding, mutual respect, dedication,

Trust and creativity -

The creation of a life together

As a team - captain and mate.

Only a blossom in full bloom

Can proudly display all of her colors

In all weather- rain or shine.



Ladle song of daily harvest

[04.07.24]

With a ladle she is

Scooping precious,

Golden morning sun light

From the sky

To fill her belly.

She is re-membering.

She is becoming

A member of this world

Yet again.

Born anew after the night.

She is be-longing.

The longing to be

Part of something, someplace.

When I re-member

To include and embrace

The spirits of the land

And our ancestors,

When I continue to

Make my small offerings

Of dried lavender, tobacco,

Corn, wine and rice grains

When I sing my power songs

And beat my drum -

The land will also respect me and

Gift me freely and plentiful

With all the things that I need.

I will continue being fascinated

By what the old world

Has to teach me.

I am a no better,

no smarter person today

Than my ancestors were.

Let that sink in,

Then take a ladle and

Scoop up some of that sunshine

After you played a tune

With the man in the moon, perhaps.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Schöpfungslied der täglichen Ernte

[04.07.24]

Mit einer Schöpfkelle schöpft sie

Kostbares, goldenes Morgensonnenlicht

Vom Himmel,

Um damit ihren Bauch zu füllen.

Sie besinnt sich,

Dass sie wieder einmal

Ein Mitglied dieser Welt

Wird.

Nach der Nacht wie neu geboren.

Sie hat Sehnsucht.

Die Sehnsucht,

Teil von etwas zu sein, irgendwo.

Wenn ich mich wieder daran erinnere

Die Geister des Landes

Und unsere Vorfahren,

Einzuschließen und zu umarmen;

Wenn ich weiterhin

Meine kleinen Opfergaben mache

Von getrocknetem Lavendel, Tabak,

Mais, Wein und Reiskörnern ;

Wenn ich meine Kraftlieder singe

Und meine Trommel schlage -

wird auch das Land mich respektieren und

mich freiwillig und reichlich

Mit all den Dingen, die ich brauche

Beschenken.

Ich werde weiterhin fasziniert sein

Von dem, was die alte Welt

mich zu lehren hat.

Ich bin kein besserer,

kein klügerer Mensch heute

als es meine Vorfahren waren.

Lass das einsinken,

Dann nimm eine Schöpfkelle und

Schöpfe etwas von dem Sonnenschein

Nachdem du vielleicht

Mit dem Mann im Mond

eine Melodie gespielt hast.


Dinner guest

[29.06.24]

If despair visits you

Yet again

During the night,

When darkness

Folds her black wings

Around your soul

Like a lover,

Pick up a mirror, pen and paper.

Write down what you see,

What you truly see:

- the wrinkles, the scars,

The grey hair

But also

The velocity of your life,

The mouths you fed,

The obstacles you

Smoothly sailed across,

The beauty of your being in this world,

Written across your face.

The gifts you bring,

Like your exhaled air being food for the trees.

The tears you cried for others

That sustain your authenticity.

This life that we have been given

Will be as precious as we

Make it out to be.

Know that you are enough,

You are beautiful,

That you are cherished

And that you can invite despair

As a dinner guest now and then,

As long as you tell him

To close the door on his

Way out.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Gast zum Abendessen

[29.06.24]

Wenn die Verzweiflung dich

Wieder einmal

In der Nacht besucht,

Wenn die Dunkelheit

Ihre schwarzen Flügel

Wie eine Geliebte

Um deine Seele faltet,

Nimm einen Spiegel, Stift und Papier.

Schreib auf, was du siehst,

Was du wirklich siehst:

- die Falten, die Narben,

Das graue Haar

Aber auch

Die Schnelligkeit deines Lebens,

Die Münder, die du gefüttert hast,

Die Hindernisse, über die du

reibungslos hinweggekommen bist,

Die Schönheit deines Daseins in dieser Welt,

die dir im Gesicht geschrieben steht.

Die Geschenke, die du bringst,

Wie deine ausgeatmete Luft Nahrung für die Bäume ist.

Die Tränen, die du für andere geweint hast,

die deine Authentizität erhalten.

Dieses Leben, das uns gegeben wurde

Wird so kostbar sein,

Wie wir es uns vorstellen.

Wisse, dass du genug bist,

dass du schön bist,

dass du wertgeschätzt wirst

Und dass du die Verzweiflung

Ab und zu als Gast zum Essen einladen kannst,

Solange du ihm sagst

dass er die Tür

Auf seinem Weg nach draußen

Schließen soll.



Bird wing

[25.06.24]

Occasionally,

The shadow of a bird

Would pass over me

On my way to the funeral.

I imagine her soul

Accompanying me

On the one last rite,

Where her ashes

Would be lowered

Into the ground

Contained in that beautiful urn

Adorned with yellow gingko leaves.

I'd hold

A handful of soil

Ever-so-dearly to my heart,

Infusing it with glorious wishes,

Gentle energies for a

Good transition

Before I throw the grains

Into the lower world. And -

Bird wings.

☆☆☆☆☆

Vogelschwingen

[25.06.24]

Gelegentlich gleitet

Der Schatten eines Vogels

über mich hinweg,

Auf meinem Weg zur Beerdigung.

Ich stelle mir vor, dass ihre Seele

Mich auf dem einen letzten Gang begleitet,

wo ihre Asche

In dieser schönen Urne

in den Boden gelassen wird,

Geschmückt mit gelben Gingko-Blättern.

Ich würde

Eine Handvoll Erde

Ganz nah an meinem Herzen halten,

und sie mit glorreichen Wünschen füllen,

Mit sanften Energien für einen

guten Übergang

Werfe ich die Sandkoerner

In die untere Welt und -

Vogelschwingen.



The great mystery within

[22.06.24]

Owl knew how to hold space for me,

She guided me,

As we flew out together into the night.

We collected dew drops off grass blades and

In the early morning hours

Before it was time to part,

She flew me to a big water.

All alone in the vast, open, liquid realm

I received the message

To swim against the ocean current.

To struggle whilst doing it.

I right out refused.

I set my boundaries.

I would not attempt the task.

Instead, I let the current take me

Where I was supposed to go.

No pain. No suffering.

By going against the rules

I had saved myself from drowning.

All the while, a strong Southerly

Blew into my face and

Infused me with potent

Past-solstice, cosmic energy.









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