Love at First Sight*

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“There will always be words,”
said the little girl to the little boy.
“So…let’s write them!”

The little boy looked at her.
His face was the color of the sun,
and his eyes knew more
than his height would allow.

The little boy looked at her.
“Will you, too, share the moon?” he asked,
blinking. His fingers, shaking.

 

Together, they fell into a rapture.
Together they fell.
They remembered in an instant,      beyond
what their childhood brains could know…

They remembered the swamps, the forests,
the many many islands,
and all the deserts and the hells.
But most of all:
They remembered
every key
that could, or could not, be unlocked.
They remembered it all.

They kissed.
They kissed.

Their mouths fit!

And they called sweetly to the moon, then,
their voices in unison:
“Please, gentle mother,
please be our guide.”

 

And so she did.
(How could she not?) It was love, love at first sight.
It was the thing they’d read about, later,
as adults. It was the thing they’d always know.
The lightning and the jolt. The grasses and the green.
The day, and how it always begun.

They fell,
together:
and it was the moment when all the ends worked out.
When the woman in the well began to swim,
and the man in the high priestly collar
began to bend.

It was that moment.
That moment
Of seed,
That moment of miracle:

That moment

When the planting
Could truly begin.

 

 

*Dedicated to B, and all our many past and future lives together. 

 


 

If you enjoyed this poem, you might also enjoy Anya’s book, Opening Love.
Or, for a closer encounter, contact Anya today to schedule a spiritual guidance or relationship coaching session via phone or Skype.

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What Works

I tried poetry.
It didn’t work.

I tried intellect.
It didn’t work.

I tried romance.
It didn’t work.

I tried marriage.
It didn’t work.

I tried anger and activism.
It didn’t work.

I tried work.
It didn’t work.

I tried money and shopping.
It didn’t work.

I tried publishing and fame.
It didn’t work.

I tried kinky sex.
It didn’t work.

I tried car trips, drug trips,
and always to be moving.
It didn’t work.

I lived across the ocean.
It didn’t work.

I tried to live alone.
It didn’t work.

I tried everything.

Nothing,
nothing worked.

 

So, I began to try some silence.
That worked, a little bit.

I began to try some yoga.
That worked, a little bit.

I began to try some Reiki.
That worked, a little more.

I began to whisper “I love you”
to myself,
every morning.
That worked, a little more.

I began to forgive myself.
That worked, more and more.

I began to forgive them all.
That worked, more and more.

I began to smile.
That worked.

I began to feel my heart within a web of hearts.
That worked.

I began to serve.
That worked.

I began to live amongst them,
yet in solitude.
That worked.

 

I began to begin.
I began to be.
I began to work,

For you and for me.

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If you enjoy this blog, you might also enjoy Anya’s book, Opening Love. Or, for a closer encounter, contact Anya today to schedule a spiritual guidance session via phone or Skype.

A Spell and a River

My nipples are stones: smooth, hard, glorious. At the bottom of the deep river we see to the bottom. There are other stones, too. (So many days and dreams!) What they ask for is what we have.

Water…moves…languidly. Nobody rushes. It is midday: robins and wolves drink. Enough for everyone? Yes.

I recognize you, lover. You appear to be The Keeper this time. I appear to be The Watcher. Let the hands move back, let us see the vision: a sailboat, blue still waters, pyramids, paint.

When you first came, I was alone, shutting my eyes: unaware of, or ignoring the leaping possible. Keeping Time seemed easy.

 “Where have you been?” I gasped, crazy wide eyes. (This time not screaming.)

Air. Earth. Fire. Water. These are the elements that make us. You hold a bowl with your left, move a small gold sword in your right. We both fall silent,

making rainbows.


 

If you enjoy this blog, you might also enjoy Anya’s book, Opening Love. Or, for a closer encounter, please contact Anya today to schedule a spiritual guidance session via phone or Skype.

The Ocean is My Lover

beachThe ocean is my lover.

She knows and lifts me up!

 

There is a white, slim bird,

softly cradled

            in the back of the breeze,

bringing our waves to shore.

 

The ocean is my lover,

and I’m just a girl:   

I put my hands together and pray for peace.

In my pocket

are two half-coins,

taken from

my father’s house. (Which they say

are not mine.)

 

I watch for the moment.

I pray for peace.

 


Like this post? If yes, you might like Anya’s book, Opening Love.   You can also contact Anya today to schedule your spiritual guidance or relationship coaching session.

As if it were New

souls

I came into this body to love you.

…Do you remember?

The mirror was blank,

so we could not see our face.

We did not like this.

Our fingers: they were of air,

so we could not touch.

We did not like this.

And so,

Gradually

Gradually

The perfect incantation

came; the perfect song.

It was a way forward for us,    into limb

and bone.

We began by singing it together—

and then, by the end, you were the one singing,

and I was humming along.

We came into these bodies. Separate countries.

We came into these lives.

We thought it would be sweet,

So sweet, to meet:

To say Hello, again,

As if it were new.


Like this post? Try Opening Love, a guidebook through the challenges and ecstasies of intentional and polyamorous relationships.

Living Together

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One summer weekend

we whirred together
French cream
strawberries
ice…
truly
becoming

a seamless blend
…when the machine
stopped.

 

I looked at my lover.

I struck the machine with my hands.

We struck the machine with our hands.

I looked at my lover.
His eyes were a perfect cliff, and I’m
afraid of heights.

He had no explanation.
We had no explanation.

We struck the machine with our hands.

 

No explanation.

Just like no explanation for
rain, rainbow, cloud.

Just like no explanation

for what happens

when two people live together.

 

Dig this post? If yes, you might also like Opening Love, a guidebook for spiritual polyamorous relationships.

Diamonds on the Wall

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I met you in Puerto Rico

I met you in England

I met you in Hong Kong

Madagascar
Lemuria              Mars

everywhere

 

When I was a child, you kept watch
in my blue bedroom:
always a few feet off the floor—
always a few feet (somehow) above
mother’s screams,

and the posters

that would take themselves         down off the walls.

You protected me.

 

Lovely my love is our love
when we met
in the quiet,
when we met in the Zendo,
when we met in the street,     when I was with the priest.

And it is true
I have always loved you…go on meeting you…
way before
the terrible pop songs…
and
eons after
the ruffled,       pompous waltzes…

They never did teach me how to love you

and yet I’ve managed to

and yet I’ve managed to

 

But now
it is eternity…here…where we are,
and we dance in the garden of all seed:

the place outside of time
the place outside of chance
the place we continue meeting:     you

and me.

The place with diamonds on the wall


 


 

Follow more from Anya at AnyaLight.com, and her book Opening Love.

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