for all of this i honor you. a poem by jeanette leblanc

for all of this i honor you. {a new years poem}

For you, and for the lifetimes you’ve lived in one short year: For the endings, and the beginnings and all the spaces in between. For last year’s words and this years voice and for everything that must remain unsaid. For boldly speaking your truth and for all that you still …

You are still here. An poem to remind you: by Jeanette LeBlanc

you are still here: a poem to remind you

{Because there are times that the very force of your reality – the relentless pace, the depths of what has been won and lost and seen and done and of all that relies on you, the pressing weight that you feel when you first wake up in the morning and the inescapable pressure …

the thing that you do.

“I wish I knew that I’m doing the right thing….” There is no right thing, you know. And no wrong thing, either. There is just the thing that you do. And so you do it. You close your eyes and leap and you try to do it the best you …

magic balm

There is no clock in my room at the summer house, not even an electrical outlet. It’s one of those undetermined witching hours between midnight and dawn.  I am drowsy but not asleep, struggling with the wicked combination of jet lag and a brain that has the propensity to buzz …

dusts floats on rays of light

Dust floats on rays of light dancing just above my head. Sheets are rumpled from sleep; covers long ago lost to the floor.  Long morning shadows slice across her back and my face; alternating diagonals of light and dark with no regard for boundaries. Shadows do not see the end …

willing to break by Jeanette leblanc

willing to break

“I am broken.” We sit on the bed; crossed legs and open hearts. It has been a long night and an even longer morning. I curl myself around you as you weep. Shoulders heave and cleansing tears fall. A truth too long-held is released. Confession. Omission. Anxiety. Fear. Agony. Comfort. Compassion. Love. These …

a particular kind of worship

Chaturanga dandasana.  Uttanasana.  Tadasana.  Savasana. My body has developed muscle memories and attached them to the rise and flow of these Sanskrit words.  I bend and straighten, lift and lengthen in response.  I don’t often look to the screen anymore – just the sound of the words and the rhythm …

Moving Me 2.0

Kate Inglis My fellow Maritime girl.  She writes books (real ones).  She takes  pictures (fantastic ones).  She takes care of rude pink-shirt-wearing guys in bar lines (you had to be there).  For sheer talent with words, Kate brings me to my knees every single time. Plus – she’s the only …

to be moved…

{I want to be moved} I want to be moved damn it. so move me move me make me feel push me past my resistance info that wide open space give me something beyond the ordinary beyond what you give to the rest of the world show me your naked …

this is for me

I’m running.  Not fast, but I’m running.  The gravel is loose under my feet and I can feel my left ankle – the weak one – twinge a little.  My chest burns and I know my face is ridiculously bright red.  I want to stop, especially on those low slung …

Let yourself be moved.

Pretend I’m an ancient guru. Yes, it’s a stretch, but humor me for a minute.  You’ve got a good imagination, and you probably owe me a favor or two.  Come on….put aside your skepticism. I’ll even help you out. I’m sitting high on a rugged mountain top and you just …

green

It is green here. So very green. I marvel at the layers and layers of emerald, chartreuse, lime, avocado, dark forest, bright apple. My eyes trace the landscape, delighted by the many forgotten shades that exist in the natural world. I am weary of the desert by now.  My eyes grow …

Lyric

6.11.10 (one year ago) The light is the color of wheat this morning.   A dull golden glow, not yet fully committed to the day.   Later, it whispers a promise to pulse and blaze with the heat of the desert.  Right now the light is present but not yet the living, …

What I Wish For You

Every now and then in cyber space, you stumble across a teacher.  Someone you are meant to know, learn from, and grow with. Several years ago, one some fortuitous random night of blog surfing, I came across 37 days, and I’ve been there ever since.  Every new post.  Every new …

my muse

{my muse} my muse she is awake and she is calling me coaxing tempting in a seductress voice dripping sweet with honey and sharp with desire there is a tug and my words they have been gathering in the dusky light and they have been swirling liquid whirlpools forming and …

Choose Life

Choose Life, only that and always, and at whatever risk. To let life leak out, to let it wear away by the mere passage of time, to withhold giving it and spreading it is to choose nothing. (Sister Ann Kelly)

fear by jeanette leblanc

fear, baby.

You are afraid. Yes, baby, of course you are afraid. This is so much bigger than you. Your heart is pounding with the magnitude of this space you are in. There is so much risk. So much potential for it all to fall away; breath by imperceptible breath or in …

you can’t take your eyes off of me

  you can’t take your eyes off of me. can you? not now not here yes there have been plenty of days {there will always be plenty of days} where I am the forgettable wallflower turning myself almost inside out to keep you from seeing please don’t look but when …

bow down and worship by jeanette leblanc

bow down, and worship

{this one is for my witches.  women of fire and ice.  of spells and incantations.  of fragile baddassery.  of power and beauty.  you know who you are.   this one is for all of you.  for at one point or another, I think you all will be the grace that …

let her doodle

she doodles everywhere. faces and shapes and lines. simple and complex. fantastical, nonsensical free flow and elaborate, deliberate worlds. on letters, and envelopes, and the back of her sisters advent calendar. on the clipboard attached to the wall above my desk. on checks waiting to make it into my bank …

a mama’s heart.

I have a mama’s heart. It may have something to do with the two girls who lie now in their rooms just down the hall from where I sit tonight pecking away on my keyboard. The older, stuffy nose and red swollen eye be damned, is stealing a last few …

breath. life. hope

{this life right now, it leaves me little time to do more than scrawl illegible lines in my journal, or fragments of thoughts on grocery receipts.  there are words branding the deepest reaches of my soul – but this is a time for diving,  not for surfacing.  and so, i …