This poem is a group poem written by the participants of the “Awakening Creative Flow” workshop Mary delivered at the Expressive Therapies Summit in Los Angeles, Saturday, March 30.Read More
I will honor all life- wherever and in whatever form it may dwell - on Earth my home, and in the mansions of the stars.Read More
Climbing through a dark shower I came to the edge of the mountain
I was a child and everything was thereRead More
Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating. And the oceans are above me here, rolling clouds, heavy and dark, considering snow. On the dry, red road, I pass the place of the sunflower, that dark and secret location where creation took place. I wonder if it will return this summer, if it will multiply and move up to the other stand of flowers in a territorial struggle.Read More
It’s the cedar – the mother of lingonberry – that is my tree.
It doesn’t need summer – rain and snow are enough.
Its top is high and ragged, no one hears its sound.
It has a tough, long root that it sinks into gravel.
The world is hungry for your beauty,
to bring forth
your deepest gifts.Read More
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.Read More
Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground.You cannot tell always by looking what is happening.Read More
When did poetry arrive for you? What is your relationship to poetry? Do you write it, read it? Where does it live for you?Read More
You, darkness, that I come fromI love you more than all the fires that fence in the world,Read More
The terrain around here Is
The drums...dancing to the heartbeatMemories of long ago insights to the future I hear the winds whispering my sweat lodge dreams I see Sungmanitu tanka (the wolf) my guideRead More
I bow my head before you as I look deeply and recognize that you are present in me and that I’m a part of you. I was born from you and you are always present, offering me everything I need for my nourishment and growth. My mother, my father, and all my ancestors are also your children. We breathe your fresh air. We drink your clear water. We eat your nourishing food. Your herbs heal us when we’re sick.Read More
I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him orher who shall be complete, The earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains jagged and broken.Read More
In her bottled up is a woman peppery as curry,a yam of a woman of butter and brass,Read More
One's throat must be like a gardenAnd one's eyes like windows through which love passes;Read More
Time to go into the darkwhere the night has eyes to recognize its own.Read More
And it was at that age... Poetry arrivedin search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river.Read More
you can see your life whole,beginning and end not far from where you stand,Read More