Broken Light

Broken Light

I lied.

I cheated.

I borrowed.

I stole.

I was perverse

in thought and action.

I fucked.

 

I ran naked through

the woods

screaming

Jehovah’s name.

 

I lost myself in

so many thoughts,

people, and delusions

of grandeur.

 

And now I’m here.

 

I have no dreams left.

I have cracked open

to my brokenness,

living in my core.

That place that is unredeemable

except

in the living it as such.

 

In being what I am

freshness cleanses

the wound

so that its revealed to be

my destiny,

giving birth

to this broken light.

 

I stumble down

these halls

banging against

my self-inflicted walls

pretending I’m great

or straight or narrow

when I’m not.

 

I’m nothing of the sort.

I’m wicked game.

A fuselage

ready to explode

rocketing into orbit

around the sun.

and it takes just one moment to

bring me there,

 

That place between

you and I

that hurts,

that groans,

that’s murky

and disgusting.

 

none of it is far from here,

if you but scratch the surface

of this moment.

That is my gift.

11-7-11

Eric Grace ©

When Freedom Rings

When Freedom Rings

First, there was the Sound

that odd and then magnificent sound

the creaking door

edging its way

to a new position.

 

Then, there was the Light

blinding at first

from its newness

to the eyes of your heart

and then it became

so comforting

as it soothed

the eons

of despair

that had been its

ineffective replacement

or better said

its poor substitute.

 

This Light then found its way

down into the depths

of the dungeon

that you kept yourself in

where you had huddled in

and upon the beliefs,

the fears,

and the challenges

that broke your spirit

and hurt your soul

but this was your food.

 

Now as that thick door

finds its way to a new stance in your life

you come to know

that Grace

welcomes you

to your joy,

to your divine pleasure,

and to your calling to live

this moment

as your center.

 

And to give it freely

to those you love

and those that you have yet to love.

 

Celebration bells are ringing

as you come home to yourself

and to the Other

that is all around you.

You are free.

 

Eric Grace

9-20-2011 ©

Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning

Standing as a tree

where emptiness has me

I fear,

like walking on eggshells

that the wrong step

or thought

shall make it all disappear

like a faint mirage

or take me

into the unknown territories

of Self

where anything up to that moment

that would be recognizably me

vanishes forever.

Tis a fantasy

most likely

but one that holds me

still in these moments

with the sun,

as grace holds the candle

of truth

to my eyes and heart.

The outside becomes hollow

with a radiant stillness as its ground.

An emptiness,

I want to dive into…

becoming wholeheartedly One with

finding a sense of confidence

in discovering,

something…

reliably me.

Something I can stand on, in, and as

that would serve as a backbone

to my rollercoaster life

that has not yet come to an end.

Its quiet here.

I rest with my restlessness

and wonder if and how

the emptiness will be filled

or better said

covered by a contraction of thoughts,

waves of feeling,

and constellations of people, relationships, and places

that tug me into the undertow

of past irreconcilable differences.

It cannot last for long,

I won’t let it.

But for now, it has me

undivided.

attentive.

at ease.

as my belly rumbles

for its morning meal.

Eric Grace

8-21-11©

Still Alone

Still Alone

sitting

alone at night

with sex having lost

its fright

and its rush

over me to wage war

in my loins

or push my buttons of passion

into self-pleasuring

or robust wanderings.

 

The emptiness revealed

consumes a quiet light

that delegates

a new dawn

to my doorstep,

as I am becoming familiar

with a man

my father did not know

and never will,

except in the eyes

of my son

if he ever dares to take

that flight out of the cold country

where I used to sleep.

 

I do not know

this road

that weeps its way

to new vistas

of plenty,

But it has a liberating leash

around my neck

and I’m happy

to be its pet

until freed

into the wild

of my true Heartland

of Sacred Desire.

 

Eric Grace

7-28-11©

when your skillet’s gone dry

when your skillet’s gone dry

Violation

no computation

of the ways…

that go before

those sacred vows

that have been broken

between you and me

so discreetly

in the silent spaces

of our words and time

where all else was lost,

and you were

meant to be mine!

 

I wished you could be

and that you made it right

again,

after the soft breezes

of caresses and breasts

that found their honey

suckle sweets…

flowing milk rivers of plenty

 

I came across

this flesh

the other day,

and it had your

name written

all over it.

wrestled from the hands

of times secret

keeper

in the back of my mind,

deep in the bowels of this earthen landscape

grasping for the sake

of a new experience

to be had

in the soul of a life

born free,

free of crime and grime

without days filled

with dread, shit, and shame

around what could just have been

a tender touch

from a loved one.

 

Eric Grace

7-28-11 ©

Shame and security

Shame and security

This fragile,

delicate life

is nowhere in sight

to the arm wrestlers’

twist of fate,

coupled with

the delinquents

noose of praise.

 

I raise my hand

in front of the class

waiting to be called on

for goodness sake…

to have an answer

when so many

elude me

is a relief,

if not a blessed thing.

 

Cramped in my womb

tossed about

by shame

I wish for shallow waters

but I find

that I can’t swim

so easily there.

 

Fragrant meadows

dodge me

as I wander about

in hopes

for security

to take hold of my hand

and lead me to a home

that I will never have to leave.

 

Eric Grace

8-3-11©

 

The Big A.

The Big A

I am utterly alone.

what once used

to scare me

like a proposed

straight jacket

became something

I craved for

like a great friend

or perfect lover.

Now it’s simply the state of affairs

in my country

of Being.

Yes, people come and go

in this world of A,

just like tourists,

true locals, and indigenous of any place,

but I feel

this profound inclination

that no one can

fill the place

where Being sits

at my table now.

no one ever could,

although I tried to seat them there

the seats just kept busting

and the table grew.

Now I wonder

who really likes

the food that is served

anyways!

I’m not in control of it anymore,

I used to think

I was the chef.

You can’t tell me

that there is more

to life than this,

something like those

cracker stale promises

of true partnership

or even God

giving It’s most

delicious dish,

No… I know now

in the aftermath

of countless deaths

that Aloneness is

the only true friend to keep.

that I can keep.

And so I go into the night

heeding the call

of the Emptiness

that lives in the unique forms that

occupy my mind’s eye

and my hearts open or closed hand.

I’m saying Grace

with the Big A.

Eric Grace

7-31-11©

This Burning Moth

 

This Burning Moth

I want to run to you

 

and burn up

 

in the Supernova

 

that you are.

 

 

 

I want to cast my

 

laborious space suit

 

aside

 

and step into the

 

delirium

 

of your bright shine

 

dancing the stars

 

away

 

into infinity.

 

 

 

I laugh at my insanity,

 

A death wish high

 

that surely will fall

 

but this teenage feeling

 

cannot go unnoticed

 

for it has me by the

 

head, heart, guts, and balls.

 

 

 

You take me to my depths

 

and you raise me to the Sky.

 

You move me to

 

Cuming and crying

 

in sacred

 

silent stills…

 

moments of candor

 

and flow

 

that ease the crust

 

of days gone by,

 

accepting

 

what I do not easily feel

 

with others,

 

as just the state of affairs

 

on Planet Earth

 

or perhaps

 

my delinquent account of the Heart,

 

projecting its lonesome love

 

dove

 

out to the seekers

 

that surround me.

 

 

 

For you my dear

 

are at One with me.

 

At home

 

in the Great Abyss

 

of

 

this Life.

 

 

 

We dance in it

 

together

 

And I forget of

 

this passion

 

I feel so fervorently.

 

 

 

thank you

 

for the gift

 

you awaken in me

 

that I can feel

 

this Alive!

 

 

 

You are so fucking Gorgeous!

 

 

 

I want you.

 

 

 

I want to Burn in you…

 

 

 

like a moth

 

in a flame.

 

 

 

Burn me up.

 

 

 

Burn me Up!

 

 

 

Fast.

 

Now.

 

 

 

Impulse drives

 

me to your doorstep

 

without a key

 

the door of flames

 

burst into my

 

heart

 

and takes me

 

to the place

 

of no names,

 

no words,

 

no nothing.

 

 

 

I drink Here

 

for the day has light

 

and the night

 

its own dark blanket

 

and I hide in both

 

until  I’m reminded

 

by you

 

of the glory

 

of Truly Living.

 

 

 

Eric Grace

 

7-29-11 ©

 

for Liz

 

 

Blessed by Rain

Righteous Rain

knocks on my doorstep

tapping my windo

inviting me in

to its shallow

slumber

of night time

daydreams

a calming voice

that beckens

the notion

of the goodness

of Gentle

soothing in her

fortitude

she grabs hold

of my attention

with grace

and an accompanying gaze

of serenity

And so she goes on

all night

without most noticing

her gift to us all

she cleans us

bathing our bottoms,

nourishing our crops,

cups, and cows

wetting our appetites

for tomorrow’s

Savory Meal.

by Eric Grace

2011 copyright

Cruelty Free Being liberates the Day of Night

Cruelty Free Being liberates the Day of Night

Crushed in currents

shaking my bows

sailing the salty seas

that make me weep

and cry

for the sailors I meet

and the sailor in me.

I stand up

in what I am

grateful to live

in this native Heartland.

I pray to God

others live and know

this gift as theirs

I hope to show.

The journeys on

to no longer fear

to tread

the days and

nights

as Life’s bridegroom

I wed

in the Here.

I take her hand

and see her face

in all the women

I taste

in all the bosoms

I greet.

I carry the child

that once was

abandoned ashore

that crazy

Island

separation

and delusions

galore.

I frequent now

the hobbies of

threads

that weave together

The Great Being

a most delicious

Life’s Bread.

I say my prayers

and Grace is given

through my heart

like Sunday

brushes

the face of grass

and the blossoms

of these Spring trees.

Eric Grace

5-10-11

Having come and gone to now

Having come and gone to now

The whirlwinds have settled

the names have changed

the years have come

and become,

I am no longer to blame.

Death and grief,

rise and falls,

family losses

and falling aparts.

Divorces and marriages,

bankruptcies and courts,

Cults and children born

out of and into my heart

I am no longer remote.

Grace carries me

through thick and thin

while I am finding

my spirit and soul

coming together

as this fleshy within.

Out of the ashes

of a life torn apart

Springs form

a unique orchid blend blossom

giving fragrance

offered to the my loving Sun.

And everyone is welcome

who wishes for a sweet smell

and a beautiful vision

to ponder

that brings them back to square one.

Now, I am Singing a little song

like the mellow creek

that whispered its way along

beside the willow tree

down that street

that I once knew as home.

By Eric Grace on 4-16-2011 ©

A Humble Banquet

leading

and living

these broken lives,

half-truths

and saviors

fade into the

background…

while the apparent

need to find perfection

subsides in the wake

of discovering

how we need

one another,

that in discovering

each other

we find the wholeness

of our humanity

and the rebirth

of our kindness

to the world

in all its wretched  humility

 

in this still place

I breathe

quietly

within me

I hear

the creek

flowing outside

and the harmony

of nature

and That which it abides

 

You and I

are a new story

in an old fabric

or tapestry

that grows denser

and more liquid

with time and age

but still remains

the same cloth

that our parents

and theirs’ used

to wipe their face upon

when the feast

of their lives

was finished.

 

Come to me

so that we can

make bread

for this day

and celebrate

the feast

that is ours

for the tasting.

3-23-11

From where she stands

From where she stands

I must look like

a man

that has yet to bellow

his deep call

of yearning for the Sacred.

from where she stands

I must seem

like a man

that has not fully

anted up.

When she looks down on me

from the great sky

where she breaths

or when she pears out

through my chest

into this naked world

from my frigid flesh

I believe

she knows that

I haven’t come

into my full

birthrighted

palace yet.

she knows

that I am humbled

before eternity

with the crest

of deliverance

of the sacred cow

waiting

to give its final moo.

I know she thinks well of me.

If she thinks at all.

But I wonder,

Is she having her way with me yet?

Is she taking me

into the full swing

of her hips?

Is she guarding me

from the power that she carrys

until I give my full

utter

surrender

into her gates?

I wonder.

 

Copyright by eric grace

March 2nd 2011

She births my Desire

As I feel

into my body

Desire blooms

for her

to be

beside me

and for Her/She

to live through me.

Waves of fear

and torment

show themselves

as the last vestiges

of the wraps

that I placed

upon myself

cloaking

my desire for union

in all, with all form.

 

As I drip

and drop deeper

into my body

of Desire

i hear her call,

the call of living

and singing

the Mystery of my life.

11-24-10

copyright Eric Grace 2010

Two Worlds

a poem by Eric Grace ©

10-1-10

You can’t tell me

that things aren’t fucked up.

In me

In you

In the world.

People blown to bits,

babies crying alone,

and animals crushed

by careless cars

passing by in broad daylight.

You can’t tell me

that there is no beauty

in this world.

How I persist in trying

to be a better man,

how she smiles

and sees my soul,

how the trees shake with their

colored leaves.

I have lived in days

where only

one exists.

The beauty I seek,

the wretchedness I avoid.

I see and feel both now,

together in seemless unity.

Inextricably woven together

as one grand Mystery.

This I cannot fathom

but must now live.

Tonight’s Lover

Tonight’s Lover

a poem by Eric Grace ©

10-1-10

This blank page

looks at me

with more of an

invitation

than a stare

of condemnation.

It calls me out

to get to know it

through how I

caress its skin

with my pen,

how I color over

its straight lines,

scribing over

its curves and surface

with my expression.

It is open to me

It wants me

to use its absolute

space

as a mistress

to make love with form

from the creative void

that is God within me

waiting to get out

into something delightful.

Exchange

a poem by Eric Grace ©

10-15-10

No longer willing

to lay the gauntlet bare

I stand naked

at experience’s front doorstep.

In its hand

I quake

at the certainty it has

for my life,

the gentle urgency

that I have no choice

now

but to live

the life I was given

from this moment

to the next.

A garden of fresh fruit

is awakened in my chest

and my gathering basket

is carried

between my legs.

I gather

the ripe edibles

and then prepare for the feast

with friends and family

yet to come together

at my request.

It will be a good dinner.

A good life.

fresh and simple i am now

fresh tears

are welcomed by me

as they quench

my thirsty heart

it sheds

layers of skin

and I breathe

more freely

in this world.

My head acts

as a metal box

at times,

craving to be released

from its confines

and ushered into

the wisdom

of my body.

And somedays

its steely walls

echo

words and voices

that make my ears

ring.

Feathers

sometimes touch

my brow

reminding me

that the angels,

my brethren,

are not that far

off from here.

And that they

await my requests

as friends, helpers,

and guides.

God

seems to await me

every time

I pick-up the conversation

after having left it

due to some apparent

memory loss

of Its existence,

to which It

lovingly and warmly

responds

and I am grateful.

Simple defines

my moments,

with some fear

of moneys’ chains

around my ankles.

Solitude is my friend now.

And I happily hold

my son

tenderly

in and with my heart.

Being in love

comes and goes

just like the Spring

but it always is a season

with its rightful place

in each year

in my life,

and each day.

What I can give you now

is my life,

in its barren

simplicity

and the grace

that quickly

walks through it

as myself.

What is it to be a man?

by Eric Grace

What is it to be a man?

Is it the lean and firm

muscles he develops

from true work?

Is it the strength

he uses to carry

the burdens of others

on his back?

Is a man he who

listens deeply

to the heart of another,

especially his partner,

giving solace and care

in abundance?

Is a man

he who gives

his attention generously

until its time

to say no,

where the no

is given as a gift

rather than as a closed door.

Is a man

he who

lives In the Earth

recognizing

Her wishes

and protecting them wildly

fondly cherishing

each creature

as if it were

his own child?

Is what makes a man

the way he calls out to God

yearning to know IT

in all Her Glory?

Does a real man

know what the

word surrender

means

in his bones?

And how to act

with courage

and swiftness when prompted to

from his guts?

Does a man that is true

know how to howl

at the moon,

with his pain, joy, and passion

embracing each as equals?

Would a real man

kiss his beloved’s

tender places

with the presence

of the gods

and the sweetness

of a honeysuckle?

Can a real man grok

the challenges

that his children face

ahead of them

and not get cynical

or despairing,

and then humbly

take steps

each day

to make it easier

for them to tread

their soul’s purpose in grace?

I wonder

if you will have the chance

to see

or become

a real man

in your lifetime.

Or have you already?

The end of sin

Animals die

for our food

people lie

for their dreams

to not come true.

We live in hate

for ourselves,

others

or that which

we most fear

we will surely

become…

if we do not

fight against it.

True resolve

does not come

easily in a world

without borders

but lived as though

there are such things.

I do not tarry

lightly

any longer

having seen

the sins

of man.

I have found them

so fondly

on my front doorstep.

I could care less

If you can see them now,

Branded across

my face

as I owe

them nothing…

just as they shackle

me

to the ground.

I wander aimlessly

into the dark night

Comforted

by the dim stars

and their distant light.

All this comes to pass

and still,

we welcome each other

into our hearts

only to know

the end is near.

Eric Grace

8-20-10