Page 3 of 6

saved

Poetry will save us
as it has
and always does

It's poetry who catches us
falling in
and out
of love

A resting tent that nurtures us
while our souls replenish,
touching the universality of our own uniquely fragile stardust...

Stroking our foreheads,
breathing peace into our hearts,
illuminating the beauty in everything
and stitching it
into a cloak of light,
draped lovingly around our shaking shoulders;
whispering cogently to us of its impenetrability, 
of our own sovereign safety,
so that we may rise refueled
our furnace stoked
charged by the life force now burning
outrageously bright in us
to face the world and all its oddly timed surprises
with the optimistic courage of a rising sun

This day is mine!

Poetry has saved me.

Again.

M & E

I hardly feel like writing

I barely bother to read

Scroll
Scroll
Scroll

Wanting to be fed
by the feed

Knowingly wading through
the mire that
saps my soul

Overriding self-imposed time limits
In a tacit agreement
to self-destruct
so that
in arriving at that nihilistic state of

I Hate Everything

I am humbled into remembering
that

Meditation and Exercise
are my true salvation.

The day is calling me.

Put down the phone.


‘Click’.

(C) 2021

Because I am a miracle

That I am alive
Is a miracle

That I am able to breathe
Deeply into my belly
Is a blessing

For such a blessing
I feel deepest gratitude


When I was a star
I couldn’t hear the birds
Singing in the morning

When I was a star
I couldn’t taste the ocean
Salting my skin

When I was a star
I couldn’t feel the warm breeze
Bringing my face messages of hope

When I was a star
I couldn’t inhale the mint or the rose
In all their ostentatious fragrant glory

When I was a star I couldn’t even see
the magic of the afternoon light
golden, slinky, as it casts itself
so flatteringly
over all the miracles
that surround us

Here I now am
in this exquisite form

a feeling, sensing, breathing
miracle of life
with the sublime ability
to derive deep pleasure
from my physical functions
eating, moving, shitting, sleeping, drinking water, laughing, breathing...

Why would I look for anything more?

When I was a star
I saw this life and chose it

Now I am here
Experiencing

Morning birdsong filling my spirit

Gently dancing trees soothing my soul

Totally nourished by the very act of recognising the beauty of our natural world,
of which I am a worthy element,
and basking
in gratitude
for this
divine
moment

Copyright Zoe Xanadu 2021

Opti-mist

This magic mist
of Daybreak

Can I store some in my lungs
and breathe it out
much later on
when I need to remember
this perfect purity?

When I am still in bed
The way I feel
the weight of the world
and all its things
is different

Later,
When I’m up,
The support of recent sleep
and lovely sheets
and so many velvet cushions
will have receded

The replenishment I feel at dawn
will have depleted

And the hope I rely on
to carry on believing
that I can put all the clean washing away
or smash the patriarchy
will need a recharge



And so then,
in that moment of need,
if I can breathe
into my depth
and exhale
some of this early morning magic
I might be able to remember
to go gently.







Copyright 2021

It’s ok

Actually
It’s so totally ok
That I’m tired

It’s a massive job
Being a human

It’s a massive job
Being a parent
To small humans


The world is in utter turmoil


So much doesn’t make sense


Our innately, exquisitely intelligent children can see this so clearly


And they know


They know how to pull us back to the truth of our reality


They know how to pause in wonder at
birdsong, starlight, new fungi


They know how to play


They know how to feel


They know how to take their sweet time



What they don’t know
is how fucking uncomfortable it is
to be stretched across the chasm of their knowing of what’s real
and our adult bondage to
the bullshit reality of late-stage capitalism



It’s so totally ok that I’m tired

Copyright 2021

Tea and sunrise

Magpies stomping on the roof

Rustling sounds in the garden

different
to the nocturnal rustlings

bolder



shadows of the morning walkers

diligent silhouettes
passing by my window

the dusty film makes it all seem
so romantic

lace hanging haphazardly

like a renaissance era opera dancer

backstage
in a state of delicious dishevelment
limbs everywhere



Dogs pull their humans
eager to know what news this day brings
so easily sated
by the daily miracle
of the sun remembering to rise



What further delight
would any sane person
seek to seek?



Stay here in this

the gold of highest value

hear the praises
sung by those with wings

whose freedom of flight
allows the broadest view from above

who still choose
to come home to roost

They will always remind me

that to be near a tree
is all I need

To breathe the freshness
of the new day

in through my newest leaves
down to my deepest roots

And to feel my expansion

My belonging

My arrival home

In every direction

as I exhale



Dwelling in the ultimate dimension



Grateful for this breath

Copyright 2021