Showing posts from August, 2018

Follow the Stars

Traumas and terrors in the midst of the nightmare, and you can't let yourself see the big picture for the darkness, and all you want to do is sleep. Follow the stars; their nebulous light illuminates your way. You will know the truth when you see its face. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The Unfolding

Let the path unfold minute by minute, unexpected detours and momentary pleasures approach; endings are beginnings and play is real. Let go of the struggle; let life pursue you for once. Unpack your stuff so you can find your way. Answers are elusive but still the river flows. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Tight Connections

Crowded airports and delays are the order of the day. Connection dreams will fade in future memories, but today relies on trust and serendipity. Adventure awaits. Sailing smooth and soaring, bobble-headed seatmates in this tubular train, sarcastic crew, and passengers poised to pounce when the doors open at the gate. Miracle disguised as frustrations-- one hundred years ago it took six month to cross the Atlantic. On the ground safely in 20 minutes; the mad rush awaits. Strangers connected in space and time. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Blue Tsunami

Black crows again this morning - change is on her way. Spirit messengers and fresh air after cleansing rain night but regrets weigh heavy; they wash over me and what is freezes me to now and the only way out is forward. Feeling the blues, blue snowstorms and blue iceburgs stand ready to usher in a tsunami of love and justice. The birds cry. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Three Black Crows

Three black crows appear on the branches outside my window, pausing, posing, peering inside. Sitting. Silent. Yet I see the message. Darkness lasts but a season, then flies away. The light always returns. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Dark Roast Coffee Morning Musings

It's a dark roast coffee morning, rainy sky and sleepless sleep, dream creatures of the night, wake to gaslighters and demons of the day. You may think you must have nothing to say, but be the voice for reason and right, true truth. Love spreads and edges fade, keep your heart close; in courage drawing. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


Are you sure you don't want to know what you don't know? Can't quite grasp what you're reaching for and clouds are heavy overhead? You can overcome hate with love-- it's a radically uncomfortable movement but the chattering birds and even the spider knows. Cut to the root--the trees, the flowers, the haters know, it grows deep and spreads. Separate from separation. Justice, mercy, peace, are just words thrown about. Your justice is not just if it is not just for everyone. This is not a secret, and this may not be a poem, but you know love when you see it. the children know. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Problems, injustices, and things that need to be

Problems, injustices, and things that need to be answered, fixed, done, referred, and helped. Questions tug at me like suckling babies and frustrating stubbornness and deliberate obfuscation, intentional ignorance and neediness weigh me down. I need a cup of coffee to face this day. Breathe. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Teaching Summer Session Online

Grading late hangover and tons of technology troubles. Soak in the morning sun for strength. Have compassion for the lack of comprehension. Dreams are fleeting. Push back against the resistance. Rights and wrongs; I am not giving you credit for making shit up and you have to submit an assignment to pass the class. This is what I want to say: Open windows, portals into the unknown, but it requires crossing the threshold, drinking in the opportunity. Skimming the surface invites regret. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

And so it Goes (Haibun)

Rainy day and troubles, sick dog, messages from a friend. Sigh. Things and things and things to do. And so it goes. Even in gray, the sun dawns. The healing pulse helps. Listen to the voice within. You. can. do. this. It's a dark heart day. Stir your coffee. Stir your mind as well. Start again. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Meditative Moments

Yipping dogs intrude on my solitude, but who has time for solitude these days anyway? Yet I awoke to a chorus of bird calls, and the breeze still blows the tips of the trees, and these sick trees, dying, are still producing leaves. So I suppose I can breathe in the life-giving presence of the dappled shadows on the forest floor and the sudden sun illuminating those leaves overhead; watch the bug float by, and the white flowers explode from the lush foliage; and feel my edges dissolve. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Nature is Strong Today

Nature is loud today; her wind-whipped branches and cackling caws reverberate through the rhododendron thicket. A whisper then a lark, beware the resistance; a tsunami of justice is upon us. The tide turns, the roar begins, now is the time to take back your power. Be strong today. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The World's Abundance Sings to me Today

The world's abundance sings to me today, connections of love and lushness of life. From the ant inching her way across the rusty ledge, to the leaves quivering in the gentle breeze, blue skies, bird songs, and sun, the breath of life, speak, listen, come home. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Sonnet to Presence

Technology troubles plague me and I hide in my treehouse in the rhododendron thicket; take in the greens of the trees, mottled dogwood branches drawn across the canvas sky; bees buzz the nectared flowers; bird songs spacious dropping seeds of love. Perhaps you haven't heard-- the world awakens within; we are one- open your eyes to see. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Clean Sheets and Fresh Beginnings

Temples tired and a whining dog across the street is my teacher today. The ant scurries, the bee darts, blue skies peek from behind the clouds. Clean sheets and fresh beginnings like a summer rain clear the air. The foolers are the fooled and we all pay the price. A white feather floats to my lap; surrender to the moment that is. Pleas for kindness fall on deaf ears. Floating in a sea of yes, ponderings and possibilities, hear the wind and the birds; the bugs nibble at my feet; feed the fool within. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


The sun feels deliciously warm on my skin and the light on the trees is a beauty to behold. Greens on greens on greens, slate sky behind, and a lone bird finds her voice. Release the 'what is' because maybe it's not. Release the 'have to's' because maybe you don't. Maybe your task today is to observe the lush abundance of the dogwood tree reaching down to shield and shade and provide a branch on which the bird can rest. Sun and shadows and sky, blue. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The Asking

The wind blows. Breathe in divine breath and the bird sings. Soften the edges. Learn from the dog-- insistent barking gets you fed. Ask, then open eagerly to receive. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The Mystery

Birds fly just out of sight and the sunlight dapples the leaves overhead. All things I love surround me. Sometimes the mysteries aren't so mysterious after all. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


Mid-morn, heat rising, restless dog at my feet, colors lush and brilliant, nature's fullness. The naked tree stands tall and stark in the midst of this greening; she is dreaming a different dance, let her soar to her own song. Is the journey over or just begun? Spread your roots and be. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


In our shared ani- mal-ness, we touched noses, and life happened again. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


Forgiveness is hard when it's willful, rudeness, un- necessary, yet. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


My seat mate opened the window while I slept. Some- times the light intrudes. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Life is Fragile and on the Edge

Life is fragile and on the edge, delicate, death and decay await eagerly, darkness around me, waiting for the full fruits to light the way with sparks of joy. I wish I could believe in the power of life to renew and regrow, overcome oppression, and love with abandon. I'm sorry for not paying attention. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


Satisfying sensation of returning home, holding the pause in the moments before my gate is announced. Perfect balance of coffee, backpack, bag, and body, shoulder to shoulder with fellow sojourners, traveling borderlands, migrants, heading home. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Ancestral DNA

I come from a line of strong women. My DNA perseveres. I carry in my body ancestral memories of pain and hunger, courageous action and adventurous undertakings. I hold in my cells the desperate desire for a better life. I hold in my breaking heart the dream of a better world. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018


May the holy being-ness of Mother Earth bless you with unexpected paths and hidden treasures, secret visions and moist grass after a summer rain. May your life be as blessed as a field of wildflowers arrayed in all the colors of the rainbow, and may all your weeds have lacy leaves and curious crawling bugs. May your spaces be thin, and healing, may doorways always beckon you, may your climbing vines and ancient stones and flowers bloom for love of life. Bless your delicate blossoming and the blue-gray sky. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

A Fire Burns

From the rainy mist and the mossy ground a fire burns, leaping flames and crimson core, crackling, reaching, shooting stars. Purple sparks and red-hot beauty and a petal of love is birthed. Rough-edged ideas are ready to fly in the smoky haze. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The Voice of the Poet

The voice of the poet is the pen for the vulnerable, embodiment of anger over injustice and greed, bodies killed but never silenced. Voices crying from the grave, speak my story, don't let it die with me. The spirit lives in the poem. Feel the words, taste them, live through them. The voice of the poet is life. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Bringing Life

I must find a way to bring life to my study of death-- breath of the body to the bones and the gravestones, touch and feel and caress to the academic examination of wailing cries and farewells, scent of decay, acrid in my nostrils, eyes heavy and heart open. Humanity weeps. My own tears fall. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018