Christine Salkin Davis (Focail do a Chara)

Silent sun, hidden behind gray sky; just as whispers emerge in the wind, light on the falling leaves, sitting birds, barren branches, and wheat-colored grass. Light on my sorrowed heart. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Give yourself permission today to be the gift of joy, even in this season of sadness and stress, seducing memories; give yourself permission to listen, and see, to be safe spaces, shelter in the rainy day chill of life. Be the nana who kisses away the hurts; be the color in the leafless grays of winter skies. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Christmas spot of color, red cardinal emerging from the browns of winter, heights embodied in its fluttering wings, vulnerability soaring, and limitless climb. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Permission. Like a flowing mountain stream, or a chorale echoing in a grand cathedral, or a seed germinating warmly in the cold ground to bloom an expected spring surprise, permission to become, to come, broken or whole, on a run or on your knees, to call forth the mystery within. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Surprises and poetic serendipities, permission to be beyond myself, in love with what is -- sunlight turning brown leaves into sparkles of gold -- visions of love shining bright, see and know, blue skies above but you have to look up, love returning, in smiles and hugs and cold noses and toes, messages and strangers within. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

One more time and one step closer, gratitude for eyes wide open now. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Holy is the bird, color in the dreary sky, hope in the cold heart. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

This is your longest night; but light is lengthening, hope in the silence. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Read the signs, avoid the traps, holy in the small, open hand of God. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

A flash of redbird in the dreary sky, visual representation of a return to love, light approaching if you are ready. Crimson the color of blood coursing, live-ness, fire from the soul of passion, permission to move, to feel, to be, just as you are -- red or blue or dull. In the wind whipping brown leaves holding on, be the leaf-- tossed but resolute. Desire dreams, long night. Let the red bird land. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Lone leaves hanging on bare trees; rainy day recess memories; stir-crazy children and energy, exploding. Inherit the story of self-preservation, warrior spirit, incessant striving for safety, longing for an unknown home and memories gathered from the future. Gather appreciation for possibility in the pause, the journey forward, pushing past the fringe, guided by the full moon to the center of yourself. Seasons change slowly but still the earth turns, the invitation simply asks you to hold on as it carries you forward. Longing and striving and letting go. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Your dying self groans in death pangs, terror of the night, shadows, the plan -- a breath away, luminous interiority, light within, magnetic pull toward love, journey of heart, mind, and body joy, multiple ways of knowing love, love's echo resounds, baritone and bass of our being, heart song symphony, beauty and light seeded from the depths. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Full moon intensity, fullness of time, refugee rescue, season of dirty hands and hearty courage, follow your north star. A federal judge has ruled that fear of violence is an acceptable basis for granting asylum. dark-light shifting and day is finally dawning, it's a short trip to safety and fortune awaits; move forward, time is full and the path is ready for the refugee children; prepare a place. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Life is a threshold, becoming, becoming, like the expanse of stars in a clear, cold night sky, gateways to galaxies. There's something about light in the darkness, pinpricks of white casting a velvety glow. In seasons of loss, black and white world, waxing moon and rising sun. Hold fast. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Uneven, unsteady, unbalanced, where is the  line between prayer and I hope that line is on the side of protective bubbles of love energy surrounding you. where is the line between praying for your safety, well-being, heart space, and sprinkling fairy dust into the air? I don’t cry but if I did I would cry until there were no more tears left to cry. Prayer for freedom song, love song, song of innocence, song of joy, I pray your desires include yourself, let you escape your past, let you close the gap between pain and contentment, fear and delight. I pray you find the threshold and cross it. I pray you see what you can become, the beloved child you are, and the love you have waiting for you. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Hello, friends, I have taken a pause from writing poetry to finish a book manuscript. I just sent it to the publisher; you can be on the lookout for it to be released in the fall ( End of Life Communication: Stories from the Dead Zone , co-authored with Dr. Jon Crane). In the meantime, to thank you for your patience as we finished the book and I now catch back up on writing poetry, here is an excerpt, from the closing chapter: Coda “The world we live in is but thickened light” (Emerson, 1904, p. 580). The team invites me to the hospital’s annual “Butterfly Ceremony,” a commemoration in memory of the children who have died at the Children’s Hospital this past year. I’m excited to go, but my interest becomes bittersweet when I notice the date. It is the 24 th anniversary of my father’s death. The memory of his death is so fresh and painful, he could have died yesterday following his 18-month struggle with prostate cancer. It is a beautiful fall day. Sunny and warm. I

Blanket of snow, forced pause, cocooned inside, winter whitewash, frozen, fresh. The morning lights through droplets of ice, let it lead you through white fire spaces of snow queens, snow angels of the dawn, pondering hearts. listening and watching, shoveling sleet and body awakening. White sky, white-tipped trees, white tail deer and feeding birds, conditions improved.

It takes courage to admit things are not as they should be, reflections back, own your own and release the rest, your power, your voice. the chill in the air and despair in your heart, wisdom whispers in the wind, holy mystery in the night. Accept the slowness, solitude thrust upon you. holy pause and breath.

(originally posted 5/16/2018) Haibun Darkness comes in many forms these days and sometimes it's hard to see those pinpricks of light. Amid the news reports of mean-spirited conduct and indifferent acts, how did we come to this, I wonder, this time of evil triumphs, and my heart hurts, and worries. I look for escape from the feelings of helplessness, despair, wonder at how low human beings can go and at the impotence that overwhelms good people, at the pull to hate the haters and descend to their darkness, to close your eyes and pretend you don't hear the cries of the walking wounded. How can you know this and how can you love the this you know, honor all life, perhaps it is time to let the sun shine in the corners of darkness, light of love, overwhelm the hate with joyful exuberance and courageous love. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

(Originally posted 3/25/2018) And, too, there is wonder in the thaw-- the roads clearing just as restlessness sets in, bare branches emerging naked once again, standing taller and prouder than before, survivors all. Shake off the child, the magic turned muddy, and re-enter your now re-scheduled life. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

(Originally posted 3/24/2018) Wonder in the snow, beauty covering barren land, magical crystal- ization, blanket of ice, white transformation. Wonder in the way a snow day brings out the child in all of us (and a demanding one at that): must go outside to play, must drink hot beverages, must pull out the crock pot. While winter deepens our nesting instincts, the hibernation principle, the magic of snow turns us into social creatures. snow can't be enjoyed in solitary, it must be shared: "look at this!" on Facebook; to the loved one in the recliner next to us. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Busy hands and distracted mind, deadlines, edits, mental critiques. But, mother nature had other plans -- a beautiful golden leaf from the sky floated to land on top on my head.  I promise to give myself permission to pause  and breathe  in the holy,  accept the gifts,  and fill my heart with the joy and love that is already waiting for me,  reaching down to me,  calling for my attention. 

Longest night of the year, black sky and pelting rain, asphalt dark save for reflections of red brake lights, distorted view for a missing faith, blackness, glare advancing. Reason and rumination cannot fix the pain, navigational lostness, neon confusion and searching for a sign that means something. Needs pull at me and I just need a clear night vision. Twinning light and dark, life and death of the soul, joy and sorrow squeezing out the breath, light reflections through eyes wet with tears, distorted view and broken heart. Waiting for the magic, mystery encounter, manifest love, light in the mind before the heart, see the center in your mind, extraordinary thinking for your ordinary life. Slowness and silence and permission to sit, sojourn in the mess, sleeping dog at your feet, pay attention to the wisdom of the blowing breeze, browning grass and bird songs.

Final stage edits, last chance to change, kill your passion line by line, close look at every word that could have been formed better, clearer, lovelier, party with the negative voices in your head, invitational critic, hopes and dreams realized or killed, hanging on the edge of possibility, future formed by red pen. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Healing power of desire calling, cold feet, red scarves, what to release, heartbeat and white petals, center, spiral, warm air rising, life pulse, foot steps, rain drops. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

In the holiday visit afterglow, coffee in hand and toys strewn about like clothes after a torrid affair, I savor the memory of warm bodies and wide smiles, My heart breaks for babies in diapers saturated with tear gas, placeless and homeless, facing off against closed boundaries and coldness of heart, sticky hands, joyous squeals, and exuberant explosions of love. Arms open wide to welcome warmth, protected bodies, novel experiences excitement, fears and tears dried with kisses and safety of home. facing the slap of hostility, sting of rejection, again, hatred spewed like water from fire hoses, fears realized,  naked vulnerability,  desperation, no help, no heart. Hold onto tiny fingers, hands grasping, ecstasy of love and baby talk. Hand clutching arms, running, explosions behind, screams of terror and nowhere to turn, Babies in diapers sprayed with tear gas. Tears abound.

See the world through Jonah's eyes, squealing delight, Frisbee a percussion instrument, dog's tail, a toy, face amazed, novelty all around. Uncontrolled chaos, love explosions, exuberant, interminable child energy and unmitigated joy, enduring. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018

Originally Posted 2/17/2018 Wonder (Haibun) 8 degrees -- a temperature so cold even the heat pump stays cold. Although it is hard to leave the warm bed, it isn't at all hard to leave town for the warmer Arizona climate. The airport is the usual holiday crowded, and the flight-- sold out seats, tattooed man next to me spitting what I hope is chewing tobacco in a bottle he pulls out for that purpose -- is cattle-car friendly. "I want to make marks on paper that change people's lives," I think as I sit in a pondering mood. Stifled breath and stale air, coughed-up germs, bathroom lines, price to pay, warm hands. The leftover chicken and pork I surreptitiously nibbled on earlier in the flight isn't sitting well in my stomach and I am ready to arrive. Actually, I've been ready to arrive for a long time, maybe my whole life. Solitaire-playing tattooed man, seasick captain, me--arriving soon. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2018