by Kathleen MacGregor

Sometimes

I do nothing all day

but stare out the window

and watch the garden

standing still.

Occasionally shifting her feet

or scratching behind her ear.

A sigh.

A sigh.

A sigh.

by Kathleen MacGregor

You

who laid an aching arm

across my shoulders

encouraging.

Encouraging?

Your face

peering into mine.

Asking.

Was it you?

A park

in December.

Oak trees and chimney smoke.

Did you ever know

anyone so lost

as I was then?

Lost in plain sight.

When you’re lost

you’re a different person.

You’re a lost person

who’s awake and searching.

You notice things and

you talk to people

you’d normally ignore.

There are oracles everywhere

all along the street,

on the other side

of the counter.

Taking your money.

Handing you the change.

Telling you the truth

of the universe.

How to get home.

Whether the oracle sends silence,

curses or directions,

she tells you the way home.

Make a gift

of what the oracle tells you.

It’s all in the listening.

There are oracles everywhere.

Still, I don’t know where I’m going.

And I’m no longer lost.

It’s different now.

I’ve stopped pretending I know the way.

That there is a way.

There’s just the way I’m going.

And that could change any time.

Any time at all.

One oracle said,

If you get lost, just keep turning right.

When you get used to that,

try a left and see what happens.

by Kathleen MacGregor

A pleasant soreness

I am with today

Reminds me of how

We danced last night

Under the August sky

On the cool, green grass

With our bare feet

And flying skirts.

Smell of sweat, wine and white flowers-

Bats dipping into the heat

Rising up from our bodies.

Beautiful friends

Reflecting beauty, joy

Reflecting love.

Even in the waves

That washed over us

Tumbled us.

Wives of grief, of fear

Husbands of rage, of anxiety.

The drum brought it in.

The guitar sang to it

Our ecstasy carried it

All.

Yes celebrate!

Setting free those wild

Birds of the belly.

Beating them from the bush

With drumming feet-

Shaking down the energy.

Coming home.

No one’s a stranger

When we dance

Wordlessly.

A pleasant soreness

Reminds me of how

We jiggled and stomped

Quivered and jumped.

Twirled and swayed.

Joining arms

Then letting go.

The flesh and the soul.

It was exactly as if

We were free.