Meditation: An Act of Intimacy

•July 23, 2013 • 4 Comments

I am stripped bare, exposed

No option left to me but stillness

There is nothing else I can do

But sit, vulnerable, waiting

Watching the space just around me

For any faint flickering of life

Listening for movement

Of air or body

Or air traveling through body

Searching for some small notice

That change is coming

This is it

This is all there is

This moment of intimate me

A voice whispers in my ear

Sudden tension as I prepare for onslaught

My life slams itself  into me

A violent act of becoming one

Vibrating with sensation

This body and this life

Something bloody but breathing

Is made

I am born

— April Resnick

birth of self spring Cyn McCurry

Birth of Self by Cyn McCurry

Posted in Body, Meditation, Poetry
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Two Souls Sat Before Me

•July 19, 2013 • 4 Comments

Two souls sat before me
One pointed straight and one askew
Well-worn but still some cushion there
Both carried stains and patches new

Then I heard a ticking o’er my head
Not quite above, but to my left
I could not help but feel it rush
A certain sense death

How could I choose but only one
With tolling of the ending bell
Parting is all we know of heaven
And all we need of Hell

— April Resnick

Shoes Van Gogh

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Pair of Shoes by Vincent van Gogh

 

 

This poem is based on Honkadori, a style of 12th century Japanese poetry.  It is a practice of including lines (or images) from a classic poem into a new poem, so that the new poem carries with it the same feeling tone of the classic poem.

My poem was inspired by an Emily Dickinson poem, “My life closed twice before my eyes.”

Posted in Death, God, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry
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Wall of Heat

•July 17, 2013 • Leave a Comment

In this pressing heat
I notice each creak
Of stretching and settling
In the walls where I keep
Myself and my stuff
Which are silent enough
To help me observe
Noises often unheard
Do they portend collapse
Or simple sighing, perhaps
Subtle movement of moments
Summer lumbering past

–April Resnick

RedHouseMikeRooneyRed House by Mike Rooney

Posted in Meditation, Nature, Poetry
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Origins

•July 15, 2013 • 4 Comments

I was formed in it
Forced from it into life
Grew up in it, on it, near it
Curious about its creatures
Bobbing, and carried by its currents
Full and fizzing sound that echoes in my ears
Filled then utterly emptied, solvent
I am drawn back to it in any form
When life on land is locked
I find my origins there
And nothing else

–April Resnick

20130715-224109.jpg

Underwater painting by Eric Zener

Posted in Identity, Nature, Poetry
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Peace

•July 11, 2013 • 2 Comments

Do not be concerned about me,
I have found peace with my humanity.
Stay silent too long,
And shame simply lives on,
So I face it, speak it religiously.

I do not expect not to struggle,
I do not run from the days that are muddled.
I live quite well in my skin,
Write it all down and then,
With any luck remove some shame for others.

My peace does not mean not reacting,
Nor should it look like detaching.
It means accepting the form,
Of each unique moment born,
Still, sacred space left to feel anger, injustice, and passion.

— April Resnick

blood-room-painting-ryohei-hase
Blood Room by  Ryohei Hase

This one is for my “Temp Mom,” as I used to call her.  Inspired by a conversation we  had about having peace amidst the struggle of being human.  The coexistence of both pain and peace is indeed possible, preferable even, and can be equally well attained while walking very different paths.

Posted in Abuse, Body, Family, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry, Writing
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Connection

•July 10, 2013 • 1 Comment

My stillness does not stop the pull,

But it reveals it all to me.

My silence does not negate the noise,

Sounds find my ear incessantly.

My breath does not transcend my form,

It whispers, “temporary.”

My concentration does not mask my mind,

I will choose life over lobotomy.

— April Resnick

neuron

Think About It by Amber Ozols

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry
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You Stupid Girl (repost)

•July 8, 2013 • 2 Comments

I am melting

My hands have dissolved

Only heavy wrists remain

The sinew and bone mix

With fleshy thick thighs

To create a lump

Of melded me

I cannot tell where

One appendage ends

Or the other begins

I lean towards the fusion

Wanting to be pulled

Completely into a gooey blob

Liquified

Until nothing is left

But stuff, and steam rising

My bitchy black hat alone and pointing

— April Resnick

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Identity, Loss, Meditation, Poetry
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My Addiction

•July 5, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The moments after it is done,
I am spent and satisfied,
The wider world makes at last,
All is quiet, I am high.

I have emptied out the bottle,
Of the stuff that clouds my mind,
Relieved to have not one drop left,
Spilled on the page I leave behind.

Soon enough it fills back up,
That glass of poisoned brine,
I partake to stop the shakes,
These are the reasons why I write.

— by April Resnick

20130703-150113.jpg

Posted in Food & Wine, Humanity, Identity, Poetry, Writing
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Conflict (repost for Independence Day)

•July 4, 2013 • 4 Comments

What are you trying to sell me?

A grill, or a sofa, or drink

A red, white, and blue ideology

That ignores human lives on the brink

 

An article of faith wrapped in dogma

Tied with a star-spangled bow

A car on a lot, an appliance

Supposed to help me feel part of the show

 

I sit here conflicted as one who has served

And one who has questioned it all

I do not fit in to your nice little box

That’s been purposely fashioned too small

— April Resnick

I wrote this last year and have reposted for today.

Posted in Death, Equal Rights, Human Rights, Humanity, Identity, Loss, Poetry, Women's Rights
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The Art of Intimacy, A Sutta

•July 3, 2013 • 2 Comments

Wherever you might find yourself

Stop, be quiet and still, grow roots of attention

Not about you or around you, but in you and through you

There too you will find your breathing

 

Take to heart the long and the short of it

For it will surely come and go, your life in this motion

Use this moment to inhabit your skin, do not abandon it

There too you will find your body, living

 

Investigate the traces of your own thriving

Prickling and softening, life as it moves you

Feel your desires warm, bubbling, hotly compelling, then cooling

There too you will find your self, reacting

 

Listen as your mind speaks to you

Be thankful you have this chance to notice the nuance

Stay with it, watch it work, learn your machinations

There too you will find freedom with your thinking

 

Watch, if you will, the waxing and waning

See the creation and disintegration of each minute

Be a witness to what has passed within and without you

There too you will find intimacy with being

— by April Resnick

Spectrum-SMH

Figure Sitting on Boat In Desert, by Euan MacLeod

This poem was inspired by my understanding of, and practice with, the Anapanasati Sutta.

Posted in Body, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry
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