The deepest, most secret core, the most raw
of wounds of the writer are revealed in her poetry

Poetry 2

Wrestling
Demons

Demons arrive

when least welcomed

to eat the sins

helping us survive,

demanding we reveal

what's been concealed,

forcing bare all illusions

releasing conclusions

stripping down to Truth

rising up in bravery

hiding nothing,

granting peace.

Be the
Medicine

Psychospirituality in action
what a concept --
stepping up
lowering some boundaries
while holding others
and whole-ing others
by being the medicine
of mindful reflection
deepening awareness
leaning into awakening

© 2015 Deah Curry PhD

~.~ Absent and Needy ~.~
Another Mother's Day Story

— with Raziel Bearn.

Free spirited and liberal I painted
the mother of my fantasy
she of my biology
closer to my age and
understanding that mother
I longed for, hoping,
never expecting,
to know, for certain
strong forces conspired
to keep her forever absent,
shamed and in denial,
afraid and unready
for the unwelcomed daughter.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Adopted yet apart I endured

the mother of my reality

she of her own family-rupture

older in years and mindset

still, battling that mother

I rejected, wanting,

never getting

to feel self valued

wish-fulfillment born

of a wounded, needy heart

suppressed and dependent,

perpetually unprepared

for the daughter she got.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Liberated and seeking I authored

the mother that healed me

she of therapy's invention

adaptive adult, corrective parent,

layers of authentic allium

peeled away stinky

and delicious

rooted in the chthonic

new growth reaching

for satisfying connection

independent and solitary

observant and strong

daughter of Nature's song.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Anapestic

I aspire to write pomes*
in the happiest way
they will tell you that's called
anapestic, they'll say.
Just add tetra and meter
and you can write too
you can join all us writers
in writers word zoo.

*poems must be misspelled to make the meter work

The Ancestors Defied

Tis the season for honoring the ancestors.
How will you honor yours?
How will you give gratitude for their endurance through hardships and the strengthening

of faith and genes that you could be born
so many centuries later?
How will you give gratitude?

How do you pay respect to those whose

names and places and forgotten stories of love
and loss, of fear and hope built your bones,

and if you are lucky, still reside within

your hazy memories and nearly lost traditions?
How do you pay respect?

How can you use your life to honor their struggles

to revere and preserve the old ways
when the conquerors came, when despite all odds
they defied and survived?
How can you honor them
this Samhain season?

Bump on a Pickle

Existing

without a plan

unusually

unmotivated

unconsciously
unnerved

Feeling

without a reason

disaffected

disappointed

discontented

Believing

without a certainty

life's in limbo

in unanimated suspension

just existing

to exist

like a

bump

on a

pickle

Disappointed
they said
about the election
as if a blue sweater
was ordered but a
red one delivered instead.
Surely such disappointment
is a mask against something
deeper
and darker
and more terrified.

Perhaps I am
projecting

Love and listening
they prescribe
as if listening
to threats and intolerance
will cure the traumas
of assault
and the
aggressions of
privilege run amok
as if being more loving
will erase anxiety
of untold perversions
of fairness and justice

Perhaps I am
cold-hearted

Instincts

Cynical
I fear
does battle with
instincts
for speaking out
from inner power
and being a way-shower
if not a lightworker

Perhaps I am
struggling
and grieving
and stunned

It is interesting to
notice all this at once
while waiting for pizza
to tamp down
panic
and lift up
unrealistic hopes
that one day
things will be better

Is that the same
one day
when I'll be skinny?

Confused

Confused, I sail
in swirling waters
holding secrets
I have yet to learn
and questions
I have yet to ask.
Cold isolation
envelops willingness.
Waves of frustration
begin to drown curiosity.
The adventure’s worth
suspect, hidden
from surface recognition
amid the jetsam
thrown by
preceding travelers
hoping, as do I,
to reach a welcome
to the magic land of authors
where social refugees
may find kindred souls.

Do not be alarmed
by my flagging presence
as shifting priorities
make unspoken
changes
necessary

Let not the unexpected
dying off
of interests
and involvements
be interpreted
as more than
the simplicity of
chthonic
growth
in process

Beginning with endings
the vis renews
itself

“Flagging” is a normal autumnal process that occurs in the Western Red Cedar when some older weaker branchlets in the otherwise evergreen species die off due to long drought conditions in order to conserve sustenance and growth for the rest of the tree.

The Vis refers to the naturopathic concept and Latin term of the vis medicatrix naturae -- the healing power of nature -- sometimes also used to refer to one's vital force, soul, the natural essence or life force that animates all living things.

The deepest, most secret core, the most raw of wounds of the writer are revealed in her poetry

Poetry 2

Wrestling Demons

Be the Medicine

~.~ Absent and Needy ~.~ Another Mother's Day Story