Please Ail Quietly

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Checking my reality for gravity,
I am certain the devil is memory.

Loneliness inside a humanity
so inhospitable to uncertainty.

I am earth and I am woman—
you watch me get sicker

day by day;
eight generations of

slow estrangement
from a cherished cellular clay.

 

Julia Daye

YOU ARE THE MEDICINE


Blessed be these bodies  tn1_Black_and_White_efsjq
where movement lives free.
The mind-made brokenness
that forgot its inheritance
forgives you.
Can you forgive it too?
Re
member
these embers
of creation;
we were born
(arrived!)
to be here.

©Julia Daye

TRUST

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At the end of the day
and the end of the year

and the end of this life
and all things I know,

I allow trust to replace vision.

The night sky’s deep celestial face emerges
again from behind its sunny blue façade.

What is dream but a midnight
porthole into invisible infinity?

Tonight, the bumblebees that fly

around my vulnerability, stop
and land,

allowing the space to yawn
wide and open.

A cozy tide beckons release

of these weary lids,
dissolving again

into darkness
and the dream.

~ Julia Daye

Stop Overthinking Your Longing


Stand up straight,
stop overthinking your longing.

That hunger is a part of this human body,
written into our blood like
red and blue tattoos.

Reach for the door, say the things;
don’t ask anyone to make it easy for you.

In fact, when someone makes it hard, say,
Thank you mama! You give my longing a direction,
a channel of challenges through which to carry

 
this innate bundle of heart-feels.
Feed it with addictions

to things and people and behaviors,
but they won’t take away
the loneliness.

Lonely
is what this life is.

Lonely
is the contract we made
as water agreeing to stand

in a cloak of flesh
for eighty years

to move
and explore
and carry the unseen

into the light.

 

~ Julia Daye

Journey Poem: Taos, New Mexico: This is Gratitude

 

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To the whole of my love
culminating these weeks of travel,

I have arrived

in highs as high as helium balloons
and grief that flooded the whole of my blood.

To those “imperative” life things
that seemed to blow off

the sides of my vehicle like sand—

the treasured books I left behind,
your voice promising to call.

To the road angels whose quiet mountainous majesty
rose and fell with the deepest sky

warmth and hands and no agenda—
One day at a time, clementine…

breathing me here

from mourning
to morning.

 

~~ Julia Daye

The Decision Room

 

 

Promising this time 
to own my ending honorably,
I put a sign on the door,

but the more people learn of
my sacred room,
the more cluttered it seems to get.

They stay too long,
leave things behind;
some moments its hard to breathe

around all the questions
and holdings
and prophesies.

The far window gets blurry when you
hold me so tight,
hand me everything you’ve been

holding–
here love, take these with you
your eyes plead with me

to keep you safe as I go:
magic mother, gallant sailor, rogue child,
what is the recipe for safety?

 

— Julia Daye

Hibernating Before a Personal Spring

 

 

Knocking sounds down the hall
as I pack my suitcase to the radio,
eager bones ain’t no match for this delicious
acoustic hymn.

I don’t feel guilty for basking in ignoring,
I’m dreaming of other things now;

responding only
to the tea kettle as it bursts and I run,
visualizing open roads
while sipping its sweetness.

Julia Daye