SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘truth’

The Great Mystery


My feet pointing to the ground,

my hands reaching for the sky,

as I came to be, and the old

thoughts traveled with me.

I drifted into dreams,

wrote myself in a song,

and danced into life.

There was no mystery;

it was the way.

I was born living this thread

connecting you and me.

I have not forgotten.

Have you?

I was not born of silence.

My tongue, forbidden to

speak the language of my heart

became twisted, my words obsolete.

Those sacred utterances were buried

beneath the grit and grain of lineage.

I plucked my medicine from

the earth and healed myself.

I carry no gifts. I walk in truth,

the way in which we’ve forgotten.

I’ll tell you my story.

You tell me yours.

We’ll pray, chant, sing, and dance.

I remember.

Do you?

I was born of flint,

forager of food,

and fueler of fire.

I dowsed the land for water.

I dowsed my soul for wisdom.

Both run deep.

I am the caretaker of land and spirit.

I run deep.

I claim what has been denied me.

I claim I AM.

Do you?

Erasing the Line

A chalk line is drawn

across ragged asphalt.

Whose side are you on

shouts the schoolyard bully.

As one finger points out

three fingers point back.

We are all to blame,

but none will confess.

Words, words, words,

written, shouted, unspoken, accused,

do little to heal.

Our words, underground currents

of water, control the rise and fall

of tides that were and will be.

But those fingers who point;

Oh how they hold the power,

power to heal, to edify, to unify.

Tears do not soothe

the question of the schoolyard bully

as it taunts my soul.

I dig to the deepest of my native recesses

to the ancestral wisdom beneath

thrown stones and petrified sticks.

The ancient fires slowly burn

 from my toes to my heart.

 The answer quietly quivers

in my throat…Humanity stands upright

as it hits the air, hand extended.

Somber Truth

Within the silence you can hear the symphony of sleeping secrets.

Within the silence
you can hear the symphony
of sleeping secrets.

Shooting the Moon



The neighbor shouted,

Stop taking pictures of me.

I’m shooting the moon.

His nakedness falls

to the cold, wet ground as he

pulls his robe around

misconstrued calls and judgment

of his own grandeur

while I snap again

in awe at this slice of light,

truth in perfect form.

The Marvel Of It All



Reaching for the sun

Light illuminates the souls

Who question life’s truth

Portal of Hearts

Compassion sees through the portals of hearts

Without ever even looking

To know what waits beyond the fence post hole

Is the depth of love

To accept whatever is there is grace

To exist when the fence rots is trust

The compass of truth points the way

Can one truly live without love, grace, and trust?

The Ugly Truth

You swallow the words

They stick like cardboard in your throat

and settle like stinging nettle in your stomach

You replay them over and over

until you feel like a crumpled receipt,

not of use anymore and too late to exchange

Hugs don’t erase words

and words don’t ease the pain

You move through your days like

an inch worm measuring your time

and spend your nights pointing fingers at yourself,

knowing you will never be the same

Everything you once knew has vanished

and you wonder if it was really an illusion

Hold onto the flicker of hope within your soul

and look for the meaning beneath your pain;

the tenderness may sprout a new leaf

as time has a way of smoothing wrinkles

and pressing us into our lives


born before the wind

long before time ever came

it waited for us

marrow of our bones

surging through rivers of blood

in tune with each breath

words within the heart

stretching into the universe

as we become one

beneath all there is

per chance to seek and to find

one secret to all

Loss Of Integrity

You claim freedom of speech gives

you the right to speak your mind

You justify your crimes with the right to truth

When you imprison others with your ugly words,

you take liberty out of the equation

It is not an honorable man but one

of negligence and weakness that

puts others in harm’s way and himself

hides beneath the shadows of entitlement

You toss threats like a spoiled child

in the midst of a temper tantrum

But it’s a child’s own guts he spills

as he claims persecution, not the blood

of innocent caught in the path of destruction

The words from your mouth slaughter the very

ones who defend your right to say them

When exercising freedom

there comes responsibility to life

There is no truth or justice in betrayal

Lost Souls

Howling into obscurity,

they scrounge for scraps.

If nothing is leftover,

they rip the flesh from your bones.

They devour you by bits and pieces

until they mimic your very being.

Their own truths flicker for recognition

in the dark valleys of their souls.

As they draw your smile upon their faces

and trample in your well worn, dusty boots,

you will hear the growls of suffocated reality

that wrestle to escape in every breath.

Though they continue to sniff you out

and run on the tail of your dreams,

you need not lick the wounds of freedom.

Skeletons of lost souls

never see the light of day.

Your truths ride in on the rising sun

and etch the canyon walls

like ancient secrets.

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