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

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.