Tag Archive: prose


Sufficiently Undernourished

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It is when I’m carrying my most weight that I am profoundly undernourished. I do not speak of the physical, though certainly it factors in. I am talking about enrichment. Soul nourishment. Love. Care. Empathy. I give it away—

 

To him, and her, and them. To all. I feed everyone around me graciously with what I need, and it brings such joy to witness joy, such sorrow to see discontent. To feel gratitude, I want to give gratitude. To be the furnace in winter, wood on the fire, for those coming home with cold toes.

 

I must confess, however, from time to time I desire a return. A warm afghan… Surely sometimes one must want. It is human, and I am not God whom has no worries, but cry out silently from the heart. Hope someone notices: Please take care of me. Not in every moment like a child, or a pathetic Alzheimer’s patient (my fear that’s how my prayers will be answered), but a few scattered generous moments so that I too may experience the pleasure of comfort, feel secure, fueled by a tenderness capable of building strength to go forward. I could build empires on such goodness! Dreams would be awakened into blessed realities, diminish the current status quo.

 

Life could be a country cottage set on a path of greenery. Honeysuckle scented. Wildflowers with all of the answers: Lemonade and butterflies!

 

I am not broken, or by any means defective, but coming-apart, yes, in tainted pieces by way of life’s harsh blow’s. One by one, stories that affect a psyche. As if a bee searches nectar in the snow, the death of a queen—

 

I cried today because the summer is here in all of its glory, and I am not pretty for it. I wished for and waited for it. The freedom of the warm sun would come with resolve. All of winter’s tribulation could not survive a lightheaded month of July. I would not be burdened by wool’s itching to be a pastel, but come alive – a festival. A carousel of laughter, like a rainbow in clearing skies, would distance the remnants of pain and tears. But I waited too long.

I didn’t water the flowers in spring. I watched them grow and die, colors of red and yellow hope. I didn’t know how to sow anymore. Perhaps it was not knowledge missing but heart. A clever excuse to mask fear: Thorns that cut my skin deeply each time I tried in the past.

 

It’s the change of seasons inside of me that are stuck. Like a broken record, I’m listening to yesterday’s music like an aging ballerina in a box, ’round and ’round. Waiting for someone to fluff her tutu. Shine her up!

 

I want to come un-perched and fly to Jupiter, with a smile above my chin, full of wisdom. Leave every regret behind, ablaze, for earth to bury in the soil with my worn out skin.

 

Grow a tree for humanity in my name.

 

©Maria DellaPorte 2016 All Rights Reserved

 

 

Need

40344-Half-Moon-Bridge

What I need-

Time:

to float, at ease,

catch-up,

dare to get ahead.

Fall-apart,

remembering…

Forget again…

Rebirth—

(Hope it catches you

on an upswing.)

A bonfire for burning memories,

and for watching their essence

become black-smoke-ghosts.

See them dance like swirling twisters,

hot in your dreams!

A guitar,

keys, to play my tune:

God’s mercy

in the lyrics.

Someone or other

to understand

every expression:

It isn’t all a straight line,

but molded

perfection.

Simple, complicated, or broken,

is as it should be—

(Pain remains only when there’s doubt.)

Arms that wrap around,

thank you, thank you…

A half-moon on the horizon,

its’ missing piece in my heart.

If it all adds up,

or it’s only love I give,

that you’ll remember

some random moment…

Grasp

what it was…

Smile subtly aware

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte ©2015 All Rights Reserved

Still Consciousness

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It is not the years that put on age but the predicaments we travel through…the slicing and dicing of our hearts and souls…draw deep lines of regret on our faces and weigh down our breasts in the gravity of despair…adorn you in white turbulence…remove your hair in literal losses…Eventually give-up your mind most willingly, though subconsciously, to dementia, deafness, going blind, because the safe-havens built as the foundation of your life have always been but mere illusion, a formed quicksand.

If everyone remained as his or her innocent child, in his or her natural state of potent life force, birthright, the sunlight in us would never stop enriching each cell with exuberant flow, the bodies we host. The light abounding in the universe would cup us in stunning perfection and peace.

It is when we separate from our Source that we succumb to the cruelties of nature and life outside of ourselves, foreign to our natural state and whither in its grasp. We become the earth in all its beauty and frailty, giving way to changes that are purposeful and significant, if you are a rock or fields of grass, the tide or seasons, but we are not…

We are the stillness of consciousness that never dies and always knows inherently all that is and isn’t present in perfection.

This beautiful lesson here on earth, poignant in pleasure and pain, is magnificent as we leave grateful to have experienced every tingle of emotion. Back to the place we came…we are…and never left…never born and without death.

It is glorious intellect, sensory, source, and movement,

God—

One heart galaxy in love, all there is, ever was…

Being—

Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved

The following excerpt is from, Dan Millman’s, The Peaceful Warrior:  “The universe is, well, there are theories about how it’s shaped…” “That’s not what I asked. Where is it?” “I don’t know–how can I answer that?” “That is the point. You cannot answer it, and you never will. There is no knowing about it. You are ignorant of where the universe is, and thus, where you are. In fact, you have no knowledge of where anything is or of what anything is or how it came to be. Life is a mystery.” “My ignorance is based on this understanding. Your understanding is based on ignorance. This is why I am a humorous fool, and you are a serious jackass.”

And below is a poem of my own from my upcoming book.

(Sometimes “I’m the humorous fool, and other times the serious jackass.”)

     ***********************************************************************

I feel as if I came to earth by accident.

An unfortunate event occurred:

Somehow I was disconnected

from something vaster, universal,

far more intelligent, sensory…

than that of earthly things.

I am an extra sensory being—

That very disconnect,

or floating if you will,

separated, alone –

Is my fear!

I detect the detachment.

On a subconscious level it lives within me-

the mind-body connection:

My soul that gathers in my gut,

all knowing –

the seed of me…

I feel that cell!

In every thought,

Panic—

Been trying to fit in all my life,

into a place I don’t belong.

The struggle is the internal structure,

a program that is wiser and unwilling,

to adapt to the stupidity

that brings peace.

OH and I want peace!

To be accepted by the very things and people

that I can’t accept, won’t…

that I frown upon!

I never would want to be like…

I simply envy the ability to be oblivious –

to nature and the universe,

to sound and sight,

and energy…

To the point they are happy!

Because it is true:

“Ignorance is Bliss.”

When you are a mirror,

the truth is evident,

and what I speak of

evokes fear in those

and sadness in me

because I am alone.

When I go into their notion it is

a vacation. I can take the weight off…

The philosopher, philosophy,

Aesthetics.

I am—

Detesting what surrounds me.

Wildly fearful there’s not a living soul to trust.

So smart….

to be a dope is easier!!

An OBLIVIOUS WONDERLAND!

Do what IS civilized society:

Detach joyfully,

tread on one another,

make a life of greed and war,

Things and more things…

Have your spawn shadow you.

Build an empire on illusion.

When I am in the light,

the sun-home,

I feel connected to the heart of mine.

Only then I can be free and walk among

the fools!

Those are the days of my innocence.

-Maria Pisciotta-DellaPorte

© 2014 All Rights Reserved