Our Lady of the Red Thread

Be in love with the day

do you know how to be in love with the day?
how to listen to the language of the moss
and what her message is to her love the tree?
do you know how to follow the narrow trail of the deer
to a wooded stream where God dwells?
do you know how to make kisses into medicine
for healing wounded souls?
do you know how to breath the ocean
so that it makes you believe again?
do you know that you are a part of the great
weave of the universe?
the one that our blessed mother is
knitting us into.
each move we make she knits in
and finds a way to make it beautiful, in time.
and since there is so much brokenness
and so much imperfection
is it possible to live in wonder at the day’s light?
do you know how to listen, really listen
to the raven’s call as you walk down
the road you have walked all your life
and find it new?
do you know happy the daffodils are
on that hill over there?
do you know how happy it makes me
to feel wanted? to feel seen and known?
do you know how a woman dies inside
when she is not ‘beheld’
not just looked up on but
‘beheld’
do you know that difference?
do you know how to love in between
the rough places and the particles of magic?
do you know how to rub the small of my back
when we dance late into the night
and make me light upon my own feet.
you make the red clay of me like dove feathers.
do you know who you are, even?
you won’t let me see you
and so I don’t know if you even see yourself.
but I want to know
do you know how to fall in love with the day,
not just any day,
but this day. this very day?
I know how to fall in love with the day
I am daughter of a poet and a mystic and an artist
and to me the day must become our lover
or we will lose our trail
and the mist will no longer part for us
and the winds will cover the path
that was open for us for just a bright moment
in time.
oh fall in love with the day.
I can show you
but it is only something you can do.
open your eyes and your ears
spread out your palms and flare your nostrils
and open that heart of yours
so covered over with vines
I will tenderly pull them away if you will let me.
and together we can fall in love with this moment.
oh let us fall in love with the day
and with the divine light
casting brilliance upon your upturned face.
let us behold god’s creation
as it was intended to be,
in wonder.

for L.R.M

I just went for a lovely walk in west marin where my grandparents lived when I was young – and my grandmother used to call me with the first daffodil — this is the first daffodil…I felt connected to her and to love when I saw this…and came home to pour my heart out like poets must.

Shiloh Sophia

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grafting of the burning bush

come with me

for the story of

a sudden expansion of my heart

I can feel the pulsation of me

pushing pulling straining at the chains

to break them into pieces

and the little swords pushing out

and clinking to the floor

the scars are stretching

against their constraints

this sudden expansion of territory

the supernova of this encounter

humbles me. this is sacred ground.

I bow to the greatness

to the awe I feel

I bow with my head pressed in prayer

with scriptures at my fingers

I feel the word of God inside me now

I inhale it with gulps of light

and regurgitate it like a mother bird

and add it to the palette of

paint I am mixing up.

red gold black and blue

steam is rising from my brushes

the water will not stay cool

my hair smells like smoke

and my nostrils cannot

get enough air

the wound that will not

scab over begins to dry.

as you pass through hell

with your hair on fire

don’t forget to hum the tune

to gloryland so you can find your

way through the caves

that echo

the future is unwritten.

The flame on my heart

just burns so hot

and the compost of the old

stories stinks itself onto the canvas

as muck from the paws of the wolves

that live inside me.

Pressing so hard

that first time on my heart

spiritual cpr made me breath again.

It jump started. That was when.

My words and God’s word were pressing

into our brightest scars.

Maybe our scars are aligned

and we can expand to unseen places

of the soul. oh vast capacity I seek you.

Healing is mine now and I dance.

At the easel

I paint the hearts

of fire and pray God to listen

to the prayer which will not

leave my lips.

I will not go to sleep on the questions love asks.

This inquiry into the quiet space between us

is expanded by the breath of God.

Breathe God with me Breathe God with me

Breathe God with me Breathe God with me

Press the scars of you into my tender places

until we no longer care where the scars came from

because God is

grafting the burning bush of us

into wisdom.

God’s own heart beats inside of all of us.

Wounds to wisdom hear me roar.

Last night I swallowed the burning bush

and I dreamed it became my very own heart

God’s word became my breath

our scars aligned and were grafted

into light instead of the rugged cross

our scars became the crossroads

where Jesus rose to life in

the garden and he handed us

both a rose, with thorns.

He greeted us with open wounded palms

and told us: Come unto me

and he said:

Coming unto me is coming unto one another.

I think I understand my Lord.

yanked by the hair
over the edge of my scar

on my way over that bloodied

grand canyon of my love story

I noticed all the light

coming from the scar

the light from the wound

that lights up the cosmic city of humanity

and ashes were flying

everywhere and our hands

held the embers to our breasts.

You who serve me and

through me

serve Him

and I serve the Red Madonna

who rises in my heart

a red star of ragged hope, rises.

I thirst.

This is your Mother.

It is finished.

~ Jesus

Dedicated to: D.A.T.

I know I said I wasn’t going to post anymore on here. BUT Red Madonna Radio isn’t up yet and this is still part of the old story. Ready for a new one now.

Thanks God.

Thanks you.

Thanks to life.