Lavender Moon

(I wrote this poem as a part of the Bright Writing Circle in Austin, TX. It was based on a prompt. My prompt was holding and looking at a long, green leaf)

If I say I want you,

The double-edged sword of you,

Unfolding and permeating

Into my life, would you come to me?

And,

If I tell you that I discovered your scent

Quite by accident, and that it lingered

On my fingers long after we first met,

My nose the beneficiary of that bitter-sweet moment,

Would you let me pause here, long enough

To find you in the morning mist?

If I tell you I sniffed you out like the wolf maiden

Finds the scent of blood, a lusty thirst so salty

I can taste your sweat in my dreams,

If I confess that I’ve considered the ancient, secret arts

As I howled my praises for you to the lavender moon,

And threw a party so the lunar faeries would come

And dance around your stalks,

Caress the velvet-sided crush of your arms,

The strong and pulsing rush of your blood, purple and thick,

The green and longing leaf of your face,

Would you let me linger in the fragrance

Of your gaze, a maze of historical hurts reflected

In the lavender stars you wear as eyes,

Would you watch me love your secrets well,

And tell no one that I’ve bathed in early ages

In wine made from your saliva, fermented by the passion

Of your presence?

If I say I’ll rendezvous anytime you call,

Will you call anytime you want?

© Valerie Bridgeman

circa 2001

IMAGINE

Marsha Foster Boyd, president of Ecumenical Theological Seminary, invited me to be the poet during a Women's Leadership Conference. She really wanted me to do the poetry set for this moment, when I am given words from the audience and create a poem on the spot, improvising slam-style. I usually never hear the poem again because it can never be reproduced the same and it often is not recorded. I recorded this one and will work on this piece. The audience actually gave me some good words to work with. So the words "thrown into the mix" by the audience were (in order):

Palm, Yesterday, Imagine, Ingenious, Echo, Persistent, Reach, Explore, Daylight, Quilt, Fruitful, Sisters, Possessions, Stand, Rhythm

Imagine

At the break of daylight

I remember yesterday’s conversation.

We sat underneath a palm tree

Only imagining what could have been

If we had talked years before

How fruitful our lives might have been

Had we chosen not to choose

Possessions over Tuesday afternoon tea
or pointing at outfits in the mall
that would fit one or the other
of us better

Now, we are persistent

to make truth come to light.

We have decided that the echoes

of our past have haunted us

too long and we reach

for one another, sisters

We explore how our lives ,

quilted as they are from

Our grandmothers’ stories:

We are born anew this morning

We rise in the rhythm

Of our own lives, bring them

Into harmony with one another

We stand persistent,

an ingenious love, woven pure

© Valerie Bridgeman

First draft improv/March 23, 2012

Edited version/April 7, 2012

FIRST DRAFT

FIRST DRAFT/PERFORMED IN THE MOMENT

At the break of daylight

I remember yesterday’s conversation.

We were sitting underneath a palm tree

Only imagining what it would have been

Had we had this conversation years before

How fruitful our lives might have been

Had we chosen not to choose

Possessions over one another

Here, we are persistent

To make truth come to light

We have decided that the echoes

Of our past have haunted us

Way too long and we reach

for one another, sisters

This exploration of our lives (is)

Quilted into us from

Our grandmothers’ stories:

We are born anew this morning

Standing under the rhythm

Of our own lives, bringing them

Into connection with one another

We stand persistent, ingenious

Love, woven pure

FIRST DRAFT

© Valerie Bridgeman

Women in Leadership Conference

March 23, 2012

Detroit, MI

Words provided by participants

Some Assembly Required

I hear you are a master puzzler,

able to put jigsaw pieces into place in record time.

I wonder, as I hand you the scraps of my heart,

whether you need thimble and needle instead.

Or if you can lock the pieces 
that have been blown asunder by life,

one by one, into their respective places—

or better yet, if you are an alchemist

who can mix new concoctions from old pain 
and turn it into wisdom

I trust you for no apparent reason except you stayed

for the end of a long story one night.

We sat in a cracked-leather booth in an old diner, dimly lit,

and reeking of bacon, which neither one of us eats.

You nodded in all the appropriate ways and places

while you rested your index finger on my palm.

I thought you were trying to read my lifeline.

Instead, you were throwing me one.

And my heart, unsteady as it was in that moment,

knew it was not a good time to skip a beat.

Music needs consistency. You proved to be a metronome.

And it sounds dramatic, I know, but you saved my life

between French fries and laughter

I sat cross-legged wrapped in a coat, with a scarf covering my head,

shielding myself from the cold and the general onslaught of truth.

I leaned into your every word

as your eyes did most of the talking.

Our knees, barely touching, spoke in tongues

making us believe we could decode languages from other worlds.

You measured your words like ingredients for a pound cake—carefully.

Then you dumped them slowly while you stirred with intensity

matched only by the roaring flames hungry

for the wood crackling underneath it.

And I know it sounds trite, but in that moment,

I could have believed anything.

Over spanakopita, coffee more sugar and cream than ground caffeine,

and music switching between Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror

and some 1950s tune without the words, I offer you my heart.

I say, be careful. Others have left dents and dings

where there should have been kisses. Lift the pieces gingerly,

or sew with abandon as you intone your incantations.

And it sounds like no small thing, I know, to be given a heart—

with some assembly required.

© Valerie Bridgeman

April 7, 2012

Loving loving

love pours out, breaks through my skin
I have porous places seeping/leaking
into your life
because you called me here
and, like rain finds
cracked ground to water
and fill with hope,
I am running to you/
filling spaces you've
left for me/carved
my name, said, "this crevice will do"

I am in love in all the right
ways and reasons/
shaking my fear free from
yesterday's chains,
refusing to hold you accountable
for someone else's inflicted pain

I am no longer running
from the possibility
that love is healing
even in the face of missteps/
mistakes and failed opportunities
to grow, to stretch
to be in tune with the
rushing waters
of my own heart

I am wide-open flayed
bleeding love back
to you

© Valerie Bridgeman
August 4, 2011

Hand on Belly

She always knew
how to soothe me sleep
after nightmares
and stomach aches

often with catnip tea
or some other
honey-coated concoction
easy on the throat

she knew the worth
of a hand on belly
easing the pain
heightened by fear

she knew the gift
of a well-placed palm
skin and memory
easy, caressed
belly in hand


© Valerie Bridgeman
August 6, 2011

In the Spirit

There are times
I find myself
Swaying from side to side,
Moving in rhythm to
A song in my mind,
A song only I can hear,
A song that’s reverberating:
I’m smiling, dancing, daydreaming.
I find myself keeping the beat
With genuine joy,
Even with hell flying
All over my head,
Bills piling high,
And work I don’t want to do.
Moving and keeping time,
Keeping faith,
A celebration is going on
In my soul.

I turn my ear and heart upward,
Get the sway and swagger
Going on from side to side:
Life just needs to be dance to
Sometimes.

In the spirit of hope.

A hope that things
May be down,
But I’m not out;
Life comes in cycles,
Tides, ups, downs,
However you fathom
The way things work.
The song changes
From time to time,
The swing and mood of life
Can be whimsical.
Tides do turn.
Fortunes do reverse.
But if you’re always underneath
The rough reverb,
You’ll miss the beat of hope
In the music,
Even when it’s loud,
Full of love,
And people are actually
Speaking to you on the streets,
Waving hellos
As if they know you.

Those are the times
You’ve just got to stop yourself
From whining,
So you can hear the baseline,
The undercurrent of jokester joy,
That playful melody that says
You’re taking yourself
And life way too seriously.
Smile! Dance! Daydream!

Turn your ear and heart upward,
Get the sway and swagger
Going on from side to side:
Life just needs to be dances to
Sometimes.

In the spirit of love!

A love so rich, so electric
I have to step back
And watch the fireworks!
It’s basic stuff: you get burned
If you get too close.
If you find the right distance,
It’ll warm you thru and thru;
People will know you’re in love.
The spirit of living
Will be your guide.

Pain, it’s a part of the equation,
But, honey,
It ain’t all the equation;
It ain’t even the biggest or lowest
Common denominator:
It’s just a small factor
In the loving.

You have to trust
The steps to the dance,
Swing your partner,
Change only when the pain
Is not teaching the love
Or the divine
Is not leading the orchestra.
You’ll know!  You’ll know!
Smile! Dance! Daydream!

Turn your ear and heart upward,
Get the sway and swagger
Going on from side to side:
Life just needs to be danced to
Sometimes

In the spirit of celebration!

© Valerie Bridgeman
circa May 1999

On Discovery

For a dear friend; your love feeds me

You said, “You’re beautiful”
And my body opened toward your words
Like morning glories toward the sun
Your words pulled me away
From the campfire where ugliness
Had begun to reflect on me, leave me
Shriveled and stunted in life and in love

On discovery: I am freefalling like skydiving
Into love’s gravity, the beauty of it
Pulling me closer, farther
‘In love, in place, in season, in here”
Changing the very nature of
Space because I share it with Love

On discovery: I know how large the human heart can be—
What capacity for hate, for envy, for fear, for hubris
And for love, for joy, for hope, for strength
I am learning what it takes to feed the inner
Self so as to lessen the power of the first list
In order for the second list to increase

I know how capable the heart is
Of massive love strokes
How willing to share—if invited;
When healed, how generous
the heart can be

On discovery: you were expected, long awaited
Like the sure return of Halley’s Comet
You have entered my atmosphere
Leaving a trailing witness of
Cosmic fire across this sky
A blaze that landed
Burned a hole in the stratospheric
Graces of my heart, leaving it
Gaping, enlarged


© Valerie Bridgeman
October 1, 2011