Allowing what is.
Miracles
Miracles touch down with
Lightening bolt ferocity
And hover languid
Unseen
They masquerade as the mundane
They ride waves of light
And waves of destruction
They are pronouncements of life
The language of consciousness
Pushing its inscrutable agenda
Despite our weary protests
And bleary eyes
Our delicate, deafening cries
And our rapt supplications for more
© H. Hennenburg, 21 February 2020
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Last One Standing
I see you
Living some hard truths
But living
Knowing that light creeps in
When injustice is done
Drawn to the will of the one
Who goes on loving
Because light attracts light
And love is uninjurable
I see you
Drowsy with pain and indignity
Bearing the weight…again
Leaving the door open
For the light to creep in
Because it is beyond your assailants’ reach
No matter how deep they are willing to slide
They don’t know what you can abide
And what you won’t
I see you
The truth in you alights the truth in me
Unites the will of love to be
The last one standing
© H. Hennenburg, 10 August 2019
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Only One Is True
I cannot single-handedly dismantle this illusion we have built together
None of us can
We try to make it on our own
But of course
None of us is ever truly alone
Every time I lift my hand
It is your hand I’m lifting
Every time I see my god
It is your face I’m seeing
Every time I raise my voice
It is your name on the tip of my tongue
So why am I so fused with this notion of separation?
So confused by how the I AM
And the WE ARE
So seldom agree with one another
When only one is true
But until I embrace the me in you
We are stranded
© H. Hennenburg, 16 April 2019
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Mercy
Mercy
You have arrested my tongue to ply it with honey
To coat my throat with sweet balm
You have named this day
The ever after
And I am after
Ever increasing bouts of you
Mercy
You are my secret sorceress conjuring relief
Release from the warrior’s way
I will not fight for love
Love would never have it
Love is in our habits of grace
Not in the way we face our demons
Mercy
You have stayed my sword
And my shield of armour undone
Tonight
I am a babe upon the altar for you
For love will not falter
And hope will abide
© H. Hennenburg, 14 July 2019
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Life brings challenges beyond our control, and these challenges can sometimes be great burdens. But when we use our voices and express our truth, we can turn those burdens into new light and fresh growth for ourselves and for the world. I wrote this poem for a friend 22 years ago. I thought I would give it some new light today.
The Shape of Water
All this weather
In a woman’s voice, it is matter of fact
Prophetic and profound
Because it is commonplace
That itchy little annoyance that turns up the dis-ease
That makes you or breaks you
All this weather
That never quite settles a person in one place or another
Just continual change
Until there is no particular sensation drawing the mark
Between rain and shine
No particular sensation
Bleeding into the flood waters – the runoff from the world
And blending so that one can no longer claim: “those tears are mine!”
…Even if one wants to
Defiance…submission…victory…weather
Do you know that the shape of water is round?
Like earth, like sun, like moon
Like life and death
Like submission and victory
There is no beginning or end – only weather
But do you know
That a woman’s voice will change the world slowly?
Light will creep in where she unburdens her heart
And leave the yellow-pink glow of sunset
Looming over the yield of years and years of weather:
Little green sensations.
© H. Hennenburg, 1 February 1998
Joyfully linking with Poets & Storytellers United.
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For me, this poem explores the relationship between language and the balance of power…how we use words to limit and oppress and the potential for something different. How much do we over-rely on words (even in our private thoughts) to the exclusion of a direct sensory experience of our world? If we rely more on our senses to process the world around us, might we begin to see something new? Can we begin to imagine a way of being human that does not encompass a sense of entitlement to power or a deficiency of power for anyone?
Power
When the wind
Takes the power
Of these words
And sweeps them away
Then, power will have elevated
Losing the burden of control –
Of naming
Of characterizing
Of categorizing –
Then, power will be ubiquitous
And unowned
And un-owed
© H. Hennenburg, 20 June 2019
One thing I love about poetry is that any given poem has a different meaning for every reader. After I first published this poem, comments from readers reflected quite varied interpretations, none of which were similar to what the poem means to me as the writer. That is as it should be. In this case, however, I felt compelled to share the above process note about my own interpretation of “Power”.
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Accord
I find the centre path
My eyes smouldering with exhaustion
I tell you I am here of my own accord
Then pluck my eyes out and retire
I am no more bound to the maelstrom
No more a rat in the labyrinth proving my worth
I have scattered my pennies
For their rat-tat-tat
On the glistening white floors
And danced to their rhythm
Until my soles bled
My red fortune spattered and spilt
I hand you the hilt
And plunge myself thus to eternity
If I pierce the fabric
We have staged a coup
And I am bound with you
Into the margins
© H. Hennenburg, 19 January 2020
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When we open ourselves to the truth and power of nature and light, we are resolved to the same truth and power within ourselves.
Rendered
A sylvan dream requites our arrival
Permeating gold ablution washes over giants
Reaching us in strands
Vestiges of brilliance painting our skin
We are but miscreants and maladies
An opus dissonant and wistful
Resolved and replete by respiring light
We are sublimating, reintegrating
Syncopated selves dissipating fleet
Into amorphic jubilance rendered
© H. Hennenburg, 20 December 2019
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I Am She
The story the sea told me
Lay open on the table
As I busied myself a perimeter around its truths
Always a wide berth
To protect my earthly longing
My trademark belonging
That makes me me
But not to the sea
To her, I am soluble
Like ink to water
Salt-scrubbed from pages
Happy to be free
To her, I am she
© H. Hennenburg, 30 September 2019
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“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
– William Shakespeare, Hamlet
Legend
Legend comes after the fall
Rocketing on wings sooted with truth
Imagining bravely a new world
Jettisoned stocks of mislaid deeds
Lie crumpled in the garden
A masterful affair torn to wilds
And reclaimed by its own natural temperament
Bastions slated for oblivion
Rise to a new mantle
Humility spilling itself from rivers of love
Whose currents authored our passage
In this our new genesis
We blanket the sky
Freed from our stories
Alive with presence
Soul sounding endless reverberations
Of light made song
A resonant throng after the fall
© H. Hennenburg, 28 November 2019
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