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The Heart's Demand

I lay in bed
and listen to the roar of thunder

until sound
gives way to silence
and silence moves Her voice
from the shadows

I fall
lower
and lower
and lower...

until time caves to memory
and memory yields to poetry

and breath
becomes fire
submitting my heart
to the burning ache
of its own internal demand

the heat becomes erotic
and unbearable
before I touch the ground
and remember

not to turn away
not to forget

Love leaves no one behind.

~ Vanessa D. Fisher, 2013

 

The Thin Thread of Truth

 
There's a thin thread of truth
that ignites my body
into fire

It dwells in my belly
and roars up my spine

It grabs hold at my throat
rolling flames over rhymes

It makes me speak…
out of turn
And walk...
out of line

It has a single anchor
to my heart
running wild

There is no perfect dance
with its flame
divine fire


Rather…

It is a deep shake

a belly ache

a leap of faith

a swallowing of heat
at the feet
of Desire

 


~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2013

 

 

Her Beauty

She was radiant
as she sat in darkness
at the edge of the ocean
Alone

She held out her hand
and extended her palm
with nothing in it
but the truth of her mystery

It won't be like they imagined:

The world's grief
will be immense
The destruction and the beauty,
unbearable

So, BREATHE
Deeply
Softly
Fully

The only way out
is through.

~Vanessa Fisher, 2013

 

 

Global Nomad

 

Midnight walks

through foreign lands


are one of my greatest simple pleasures.

 



Sometimes I walk for hours,
alone


through parks and streets


and patches of natural wildlife
that I find through unplanned exploration.

 



Having lived away from my home country for a little over 2 years now


I sometimes face the sharp pangs of loneliness


and a continued stripping down

and emptying out
of all that I used to know and be.



 

My walks have become one of my greatest practices
for centering in the unknown.



 

When I walk in foreign lands,


I become so present to the moment 
that I forget where or who I am.



 

I am closest to mystery


and the all-encompassing gentleness

of my own silence.



 

In places where nothing is recognizable,


somehow everything becomes most intimate.

There is just me


the wind


the trustable rhythm of my feet touching the ground


and a palpable sense of the wild beauty that follows me wherever I go... 




 

And it becomes clear to me
what it means to walk the path.



Travel is, and will continue to be, my greatest teacher.


~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2013

 

 

 

 

Love Poem

 

 Today, I broke open...

My body was flung violently against a bed of cold stones.
Sadness stripped me naked,
then laid me on the lip of an ocean wave,
where Love made love to me,
before turning my heart into the Sun.

And She whispered back to me:
There is absolute freedom at rock bottom,
don't be afraid to fall...

 

 

~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2012

 

 

 

 

Echoes of my Lineage

 



I see my mother dancing through skies of ebony

above me her body becomes enshrined

by an alter of naked light

thrown forth from a reflection of the moon



The stars become her sacred adornment

draped from galaxy to galaxy

a testament to love's fullness is space

I watch my motheras she joyfully tumbles through the ocean waves

 

before me crowned high priestess by the Sun


who casts down warm glistening halos to the water below

 



Bursts of bubbling white froth spill forth across the sand


cascading across her feet like the delicate ruffles of a dress

They follow her as she steps back and forth from the shore


disappearing and re-appearing in rhythm with the ocean's breath

 



I feel my mother held in the vibrations of the mountains


wise women


of all ages


who once sang out to me


who once suffered unbearably for love

 



I touch my hand to the cold stone


and I feel my mother's mantra reach past my skin


carving itself in untitled poems across my bone

 



It is her pain that reminds me why I pray


her beauty that reminds me why I want to stay

 



These are the echoes of my lineage


faint whispers


now melting into righteous roars


as my body begins to speak in tongues


and this speech becomes sacred text


written on the face of my palms


and spoken in silent mudras

 



conveying back to the world


this one message from the mother:

That we are only this love


this love that finds no beginning or ending in her

 



~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2008

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Death’s Heartbeat

 



Death makes it hard to remember
where I came from
or where I am going


 
a disorienting clarity that comes
when I stop fighting myself
when I ease into the stillborn breath
of death’s retreat
 
There are no false comforts here
only the echo of emptiness
hanging with anticipation
on a moment that has displaced itself from time
 
I find a new love
for the cold sharp edges of truth
they cut through all the markers of my seeming youth
and reveal in my heart an ancient burning
that has traveled to this moment
from the distant past of a bursting star
 
The space around me pulses
collapses and expands
the moon eclipses my mind
until there is nothing left behind
 
I kiss the lips of faith
a seamless face
and wonder who will lay with me tonight
amidst this deep
who will surrender to the quiet thunder
of death’s heartbeat.

 


 
~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2010

 

 

 

The Test of Human Existence

 

I take refuge in the silence of my heartsong

where invisible arms never fail to embrace me

where I find the only home that I know is true

 

It is the maintenance of this precarious connection

that remains the test of human existence

To never lose touch with that single thread

that ever weaves our heart back to the Divine

 

Without this intimacy

life becomes subject to intrusion

prey to the seduction of endless delusions

 

and so I walk

blinded

like a fool following an incoherent melody

hoping my humility

doesn’t lose its footing

 

For I have known great women

with hearts of unparalleled devotion

who have broken under the strain

 

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You see, the path becomes increasingly dangerous

the more we listen to Love

 

Opposing voices become merciless

but really, they are the cries of God

begging for our wholeness

 

It is this discernment that will teach us

this discernment that will beat us

until we submit to be bent

like the curling petal of a lotus flower

suspended in mid-air


and our tears become like morning dew

streaming over the surrendered rhythm of a newborn breath

 

The body becomes a pleasure that retreats and returns

the heart, a diaphanous instrument

in service only to beauty

 

It is this discernment that will lead us

this discernment that will feed us

with intimate nectars of truth

 

No one can give us this sacrament

it is a private offering

a communion

received only

in the deepest recesses of ones own soul

 



~Vanessa D. Fisher, 2009

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