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 nuclei
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 are 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.