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Tova Gabrielle

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by Tova Gabrielle
Sunday, July 12, 2009
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Rippling waters in early morning July sun. 

Cool, too cool for summer...

nothing is the same;

the climate in the body personal or the body earth.

All is changed and changing in kaleidescopic goodness:

the river of life everlasting.

And yet the river is blocked with branches, downed from winter of this soul's losses.


Clearing the river daily, I go to the seat of meditation and pull on the breath.

I am all that i have been, am, and will be. 

i am bigger than all of the turbulence of the past or future. 

Truth is,  all is holy. 

Truth is, we are turning;

emerging up through  tunnels of sorrow and anger

and all of that noise that

the body and its wild animal consciousness created.


Truth is, we are creating.  We are Creation, creating

And pain is what we believe we are

when we can not move in any direction but down

into "why me" and "if only",
when the past can not be reconciled.


i dreamt a dream of this life with a companion whom they said looked just like me. 


as she grew she fell into a dream.


I went on alone and thought myself special and right and awake


yet I was sleeping deeply and

doing so much damage myself, but I thought myself freed and separate


But I was she,

and I dream her sadness,


I became one instead of two, and instead of half,

which was what i thought i wanted.


But she didn't leave, I just faded.


Again and again the image came forth of her, and I was all that,

but still I thought myself special and saved and saving.


And I saved no one

but myself on good days

which seemed to be outnumbered.


I continue both her and not her now,

I am calmer and more still,

but not as special.


They are opening the jail now, and all the friends I had

are rushing in to reclaim me

on this marvelous day of spring cleaning in mid summer....


Better late than never.



the sadness immerses me like water,

but the water is sparkling with forgiveness

a true r reality:  you me, everything: we are clean and we are holy;

waking up in a field of the poppies.


I dreamt so many self-serving lies

but the truth was at the core, though life kept on changing.

Now i see how the life I'd rejected, rejected me, and a little bit about why.





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Reviewed by Alex Nodopaka 7/12/2009
In gratitude for your writing this.

It refilled me with peace overflowing your cup.

You're special not because I think you are.
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