karmic drama

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dancing atop akashic records
we flow through time
two psyches entangled
playing a divine song
of yin and yang
through untold lifetimes
of storm and stress
joined by a
contract signed
when creation began

so here we are
in this life
facing off yet again
pushed and pulled
in a roundabout
what will we have learned
this time

will we run
as we have done before
or one defeat the other
in grim contention
or stand face to face
and waltz through eternity
beyond the duality
complete at last

© 2002 Melissa Songer

The here and now-ish

It's not where I'm going
or where I've been that matters
it's really more the here and now-ish
that can't be evaded
missteps can't be retaken
the holes ahead are lying in the dark
I'm standing in the pure light of the moment
strung between a memory and a dream
whatever I think I've learned
unravels as the day unfolds

following the shadows before me
brings only knowledge
of my ignorance

2006 MJS

The Crocus Knows

The shift occurs suddenly,
almost without warning;
and the marrow stirs -
awakened to the moment's
possibility, and possibly,
the long-awaited.

The permeable heart,
soaking up the radiant swells,
vibrating in the center of everything;
is there now - hidden
beneath the snow-covered bank.

Knowing its time has arrived;
pushing through layers,
pressing against the inevitable -
a joyful breaking.

© 2008 Melissa Songer

Morning Moon Journey

Off to my right
a stained yellow disc
pinned to the blue-grey sky
still high above the trees
small towns and cities

this daily trek
pushing against the others
accelerating and braking
I watch the moon
waft before me

behind the cell tower
above the McDonald’s
perched atop the gentlemen’s clubs
the car lots and warehouses

its pale light disclosing
the homeless slumped
against flaking walls
until it is finally blurred
by the rising mists

we travel together
the moon and I - both
sinking as we approach
our destination
fading into the day

© 2008 Melissa Songer

Walking meditation

perched on the bridge
of my nose
a transitory stance
a question put forward

stroll through
the antique district
shop windows staged
with dainty scenes
cast in exquisite Spode motifs
floral ballets across porcelain
and ceramic tableaux
enchanting but
the lust is missing

the roar of engines and
trains trombone and clatter
the sky dotted with birds
concrete and asphalt
feverish in the midday sun
send miasmal waves upward
children in the park
yip insouciantly
lunch crowd laughter
burbles along the sidewalk
tabled eyes of strangers
caught mid-sentence
and tossed aside

no purpose in this wandering
this downtown floundering
time moves me in the direction
that I need to go
my feet know the way back
but the grip is unrelenting
and pulls me toward
a destination
that trails behind


© 2001 Melissa Songer

A secret place

"It is such a secret place, the land of tears."
~~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

liberation seems so close
the last wall of fear
beginning to crumble
the ego scrambling
to rebuild
repairing the chinks
as the crisis nears

on the clearest morning
the sky suddenly curdled
and dumped its yield
upon asphalt ribbons
stretched between places through places
arteries pumping
from the hub

it is almost the same
as every other time
I watch the clouds
move toward the east
anticipating a new storm
from the west

the same glowing threads of glass
finer than angora
convey dreams
into the heart’s revolutions
proclaiming the day of judgement

I am the frit
waiting for the fire
that transmutes
glittering fragments
into a radiant orb
the billows huff
and I am gathered
onto the molten glob

© 2001 Melissa Songer

Ravaged days/spangled nights

"Sometimes the light’s all shining on me,
Other times I can barely see.
Lately, it occurs to me
what a long strange trip it’s been"
(J. Garcia)


The stars pulsing in the deepening blue sea
guided me through the configured life.
The archer loosened his arrow, and tethered, I flew behind;
assessing the hand which lent me sorrow - my mother’s yield;
a saddened brood, talented yet insecure.
Words and concepts (my toys) bearing down on
the mother of all syntheses - strung between the points
of the sub-atomic and the infinitesimal -
I caught a glimpse and felt primordial motion
swimming within my brain (and it haunted)
and constrained me on the cusp of yes and no
/light and dark/then and now/why and why not
(logic and intuition).

Frightened of the binding of those forces
yet in my nature to fall into passion
again and again - each time peeling away
another blistered layer until nothing was left
save a pure sensual desire
and a predation that took no prisoners
(setting them all free).
Fleeing into the rational to negate
the instinctive magnetism
which drew me forth like Venus;
each time whole and longing -
full of a rage that blew
through me like a typhoon -
dreaming of prophecies.

Divining the casualty and feeling
the waves crashing inside my head,
daylight arrived in gasping beats and
carried me back to the sandy shore;
mollusk-like I dug in with a fleshy foot,
parting the granules and
disappearing into a province of intent.
The silence woven into a tapestry
of benevolent consideration,
instructed and ushered the avenue into service
(helping others was my bent).
Yet I built a wall around my heart solid and secure -
save for a single aperture (well guarded)
to admit the sun sheen
and grant rectitude free play in the world.

Wounded by pity for the voiceless
and scorn from those who would crush me,
I fled deeper within and wrapped myself in
an ever-thickening blanket of safety;
my passion directed at causes,
truly sublimated into the noble.
The material plane imposed the direction of
my lust toward achievement and credence.
But a son overawed by life (sounds familial)
and a surfeit of labile emotional twitches ailing -
maternal emergence to contend
with the system (and the healing was slow);
and questions of why expanded goading
an avid appeal to the scientific method
to prove (or at least infer) that while
I wasn’t perfect, it really wasn’t my fault.

Gathering forces in support
(for the question was theirs as well)
I led a posse galloping through reams of data;
uncovering every archived review of the delinquent
and tracked the movement of a few
to show why and how they were affected.
And notoriety was mine (as was the day).
Sought after - welcomed and invited.
Committees and councils and collaborations
and boards and teams became the daily ride.
(Which meeting is this - I don’t know -
what’s the date and time?)

The list grew and I became ubiquitous
(as did the expectations) - a local pooh-bah.
Pressing forward, pen flourishing
/displaying creativity and organization/
an incandescent bearing - a responsive risk taker
and giant slayer (and my heart was in it).
Until a spell was cast and I was declared
a woman of high intelligence (with a heart);
and not liking second billing the marrow
began a billowing (and blew my old life away).

Now standing at the periphery gazing backwards
and forwards, feeling an electric current pulsating
{through me
(conduit/continuum/
the negative/the positive)};
my heart a candid volume,
a remote terrain of possibilities
clarifies through the reign of tears.
A Van Gogh galaxy swirls about me,
the tall cedars curling like wisps of smoke,
as the sun blazes its final huff
and tumbles to the bottom of the sky
(leaving me a murk and twinkling).


© 2000 Melissa Songer