“Holding Freedom”
As a writer I becomes
We, All, One
Freedom the gift my mother
Gives hasn’t been
Shared in words
With her
But a gift returned
Is my presence
She feels
This frees her from
Loneliness
Her block lost
We, All, One
I cannot define her place forward
Nor the time she’ll choose
Light on her existence anew
Freedom in We, All, One
Her reason to be free
From her anchoring here

Another poem by Michelle, Fronded and Free, was published in The Artist of Possibility: Alternative Spirituality and Religious Adaptation.

About Michelle’s Poetry
Writing poetry sometimes seems delivered to me while I’m in an expanse of no pressure, no color, no odor, and even silence deeper than quiet. I now write with spirits, including Ganesha in view, until there are no hanging threads longing to be deciphered from woven unresolved or felt struggles. I do bring to choice rejecting the stunning physiology and psychology of fear, life can force upon me like a spotlighted deer. I know I can choose. Sometimes I reach a pinnacle of feeling beyond being human. The antithesis of striving for perfection. Writing can be an unplanned event. A sensed combination of an image attached to an experience, underscored by an emotion. I feel a need to continue the deer metaphor. I am grateful that my journey is with the deer who has died several deaths, still not clear of karma, not allowed fulfillment of purpose, denied by its extreme narrowed range of safety to traverse from water to food to rest to birth to death. I am presently grateful that my spirit knows to traverse the inner forest, traversing tree roots, even captivated by their bark and limbs, creating canopy with the beat like birds wings and songs and all transpiring with the moisture from the leaves:

No resolve is needed,
Nor forgiveness tickles its ceasing
Journey is illusion
Where delusion has no place.