Christine Salkin Davis (Focail do a Chara)

When it's too big to comprehend and your head hurts to try
and the sick dog technology troubles and stressed spouse
overwhelm and you find yourself wandering in the desert
spaces of life wondering if you are enough
ponder, perhaps, the poet,
life rushing past, how she
slows the rhythm, space
opening, breath,
summer scents,
presence,
pause.
Peace.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

I found a poem, the struggle softly sad,
and gracious was her contemplation felt--
to question power, balance heart and head,
the subtle sins and demons jealous, held.

Death tolls, last butterflies await
desire feared and judged, erotic charge,
our own aliveness searching for delight,
serve, and cling, and cleave, its fire large.

To see, and live, true being of the dead,
cannot control our breath, our state, the melt
of self and soul, mysterious madness, hate
the hate of you. Step up and join life's march.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Bleary-eyed and six hours to complete my long list of things to do,
I look beneath the dust and cobwebs of my life,
unswept for far too long.
Is there time today for new beginnings?
Beauty hidden in the liminal space between here and there--
possibility in the pause--
purple orchid scent, blossoming forth from my mind.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Sometimes giving away one more thing to do is a gift

to yourself.

Sit in the woods
and soak in the breath of the trees,
life-giving love.

If you close your eyes
you can hear
the waves in the breeze,
salty stickiness and mountain air,
mingling memories
of joy and breath
and the sun warm on the back of your hand
as you write.

Soak in the stillness,
words on paper time triggers.

See,
it calls to you.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The diseased dogwood tree is beautifully brilliant in her autumn of life.
She welcomes me home
and I sip coffee and soak in the
what is of changing leaves and lives and overflowing foliage;
sun shadows cloudy and chill in the air,
gold and gray at the edges, hers and mine.

Let the wind raise goosebumps on the back of your neck;
sometimes you need the wakeup call.
Home is where it is easy to be --

musts and dos erased,
and the bee soaks nectar from
the red begonia.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

This is a yes moment --
breeze softly caressing my cheek,
birds soaring and setting sun
shimmering the topmost branches;
green silhouette against the darkening sky.

Sweetness abounds today
in gratitude.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Start at the point of helplessness,
nowhere to turn,
heat rising,
move past the shoulds and didn'ts,
and secret, secret fears,
not enough.
Thoughts roll around your brain,
crowding out the muse,
todos pull you down from the clouds.
Ground yourself in the grit of life.
Plant roots deep today,
and grow,
this, the season of full flowers,
late summer sun.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

First day back blues
but I never really left,
not ready and unprepared;
you know the drill.

New beginnings, always fraught
with anticipation, anxiety,
attitude is everything--
be the prophet, the sage,
holy encounters,

open your heart,
access request approved,
delays and confusion abound;
be the truth.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Carrying coffee around like a baby's
bottle, appreciating the electric grid
and praying it holds, still
safe and dry, some aren't,
pelting rain sounding like ping
pong balls dropping against the back
drop of howling wind, flood
warnings widespread, refuged by
brick, buried cables, some aren't,
trees taking the brunt, waving
limbs, so far so good,
some aren't so fortunate. Bird
singing in the storm, dog
at my feet, sheltered, protected,
some aren't.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Signs strong blowing in,
dead debris the first to go.
Receive, release, wash away,
too tense to stay calm.
Contemplation intention waning.
Intense water vigil maintaining.
Animals sense; our bodies know,
air crackles with news from above.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Praying through the monster storms,
flooding rain, terror, tension
approaching, out of power, powerless,
doomsday warning and walls of waves.
Praying for clearing clouds
uncovering "kettles of hate," lies;
cooperation shaming, sharing,
sunshine healing light courage
honors all, compassion, merging
sky, sea, earth, us,
flow of wind, waves, life
returning. Praying for love to return.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Storms threatening, hot today, and
the sun shines warm on my skin, light
reflections on lush leaves blowing
in the breeze. Beneath the surface, the air
is charged with danger, drama, life-
threatening surge to locations unknown.
Refuge shrinking, power lingering,
wind and rain of monster proportions
passing by, destruction, end of life-
giving, living, looming. Hard
to find the eye, wisdom. Take
shelter, blue tsunami coming.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Hurricane chances growing,
winds moving and moon rising,
forecast alarm and changed plans.
Action and foreboding, stress overwhelming,
sporadic apologies and announcements abound.
Aversion to extremes makes you hide your head
and sometimes seawalls really do protect.
Storms blowing in, change is on her way,
embrace the flow.
Batten the hatches, ready yourself and wait for it to arrive.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The air is charged with anticipation; heavens
storming and earth cowers in fear. Ready
ready ready; lifeboats are standing by.
See the signs, blowing in, and minute
by minute by minute by minute tracking trans-

forms courage into
cowardice. Stand strong. Purple,
pink sunset dawning.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Three thousand people dead from incompetence
and indifference but their lives don't count,
didn't count then, don't count now -- the
"collective black," too dark to be seen
in the black pit of our collective soul.
The transformation starts with your eyes
wide open. Count them now before
there is no one left to count.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Toppled by the hurricane hype of the hour,
red-arrowed bubbled maps pointing
circuitous path of destruction and mayhem; their dour
pronouncements and minute by minute spent waiting

reach their climax in fizzles and turns, news
of nothing, and as your attention gets sharper and better,
slipping by still unheeded one other doom--
while storm evacuees are welcomed in shelters,

12,000 migrant children are held and detained,
callous indifference our collective soul, stained.

In the hurricane hype of the day
where too much bad information
causes its own type of destruction
and fears fizzle as fast as you can say

"Category Three," your attention's been tuned
to the set all week long,
cancellations abound,
and your plans for the weekend are burned.

You sit there waiting for rain,
and wonder when life will be normal again.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

On this cloudy gray day, cool breeze outside,
I feel the high winds of anger and entitlement,
injustice and self-admiration,
closed-minded thinking and surety of right,
blow about my hair and my heart.
Hailstorms of hate pelt my head
and support seems so very far away.
Fighting battles before my morning coffee
exhausts my soul.

Take a breath, and a
sip, and splash in the puddles --
refreshing rain, wash.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Manicured lawns and the hot summer sun
draw my attention to the buzzing busy-ness in my brain.
There is a looseness, and opening, and radiant heat,
and my limbs stretch wide to take it all in.

Even the distractions, distortions, emit a perennial truth,
and unveil a mysterious unfolding of universal faith.
Your defensiveness is misplaced. Look over the wall,
flowers shimmer in the sun on the other side, too.


© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Smells of food -- burgers? and my stomach growls.
Streetlights, black with white crowns,
dusty white debris.
Deeply breathing, mildew smell,
slightly acrid, sour under current.
If the air was water, I would not drink it.

Machine sound beside me, motor beyond,
and the ants scamper but turn to avoid my feet.
Sweat bees hover
and circles of brick are everywhere.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Greens and browns and gray on gray, brick red and
birds circle above in the milky white
sky. Cars creep up the hill.
Rocky bench and trees and stones, grays and
reds and browns, black moss and pebbles.

Ants, always in a hurry--they
have large spaces to cover. White
birch, peeling bark, browns on tans
climbing to the lush leafy crowns
hanging like hair.  Red and orange
yellow flowers and an evergreen
forest of spindly pine.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Red brick reflects in square windowpanes,
white asphalt below is
more multicolored than your realize.

Exploring bumblebees and a large black ant hold their space.
Tangled vines and steel-gray cold wet seat hold mine.

Clouds and fog and still gray sky above;
the breeze blows and brown leaves fall
as cicadas chirp in the distance.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Breached boundaries, "sorry,
madame, I didn't see you."
I am right here. Here.

Black mud and eager
faces, cool breeze hanging in
the thick air. Birds and

birds, tweets and squawks, and
workers asleep to the trees
beyond. Bug-eaten

leaves, sky is shades of
gray, and circles into cir-
cles into circles

hold the path.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Loud noise excitement of Las Ramblas,
vendedores ambulantes,
mendigas-- beggars, and barkers,
competing for attention with the
smells of tapas and sweat and
scantily-clad touristas in a rush.

The joy of being here, now,
the birds cooing and the breeze
blowing the sheer curtains,
smell of wood, scent of adventure.

Earth-speak,
greening power of love,
open to the day.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Beauty and compositions are not objective standards to be judged,
but are heart-sounds to be absorbed.
Like the pale blue sky and white puffy clouds floating past the hard edge of the yellow brick building,
order exists only by virtue of disorder,
discord yields design if you open your eyes.


© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Three red flowers, blood-red
bold against the green fern backdrop
like last night's Flamenco dancer
flashing her flirty foliage
to the crowd;
foreground-background, beauty in the concrete viviendo,
life floating by in the breeze.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

As long as I have vision,
I want these eyes to see the oceans,
skies blue reaching down to blend the horizon into turquoise greens,
sun gleaning on the reds and yellows of the flag flying on clotheslines in Spanish viviendos, pigeons landing,
paisley swirls in parabolic arches.
View the world with a light touch,
let it live in you--
sun on your skin,
breeze, bustle and hunger,
wine and cafe con leche, tapas steaming,
Give thanks for the vastness
of the earth and your senses.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

The secret is patience;
the heart is still under construction.
Center your soul in the safety of presence;
purify the pain as you hold it.
Sit, rest, and wait.
Opening and closing,
arriving and leaving,
in their own time.
Misunderstandings and assumptions lead you astray;
but you know the path within.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Plans and dreams and expansion of boundaries,
carry the love through your tour of the world,
What does it feel like to be the object of curiosity?
Welcome both life and death,
light and darkness,
transformation into the greening power of life.
This is resurrection,
transcendence of space and time,
unfamiliar faces,
balmy breeze blowing you into the unknown.
Universal breath.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Air and ivy, this courtyard life, climbing,
magnificent silence and still, pause, breath,
settled in with coffee on my lips,
hot, thick, dark. Say yes to the day,
Austrian sun, third floor grounded.
Release, relax, unrestrained acceptance
of self. Explorations await, embrace
the wonder.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018