Life Is Love

 Life is so fragile

we are all waiting to be born

and held forever

in the palm of God

Life is so beautiful

we've been given a heart

that keeps the beat

for all who've come before

and all who have been promised

Life is so magnetic

 attracting, holding fast

the good and bad of humankind

the very best and worst of us

Life is purely gift

forgiving one creation, leaping to another

to please the smiling God whose

only dream is love.

Joanne Cucinello

Moonlight Praise

O Beauty

that lights the midnight sky,

how faithfully you wax and wane.

I am but one seed sprouted in time

Caught, like those before me,

in the rays of your glowing splendor.

Your rhythm flows through my veins

and all life responds with heartbeat

to your magnetic pull.

You rule the ebb and flow of ancient waters.

All emotions and cycles, comings and goings,

even our dying and our being born,

these things await your perfect timing.

 O Moon,

You have lived in our consciousness

Since our first awakening,

Created to be our gift and comfort,

our promise of the morning sun.

Even as Eve first stepped beyond the Gate

that night in lonely silence,

you were there to shine on Adam’s path

and teach the rhythms of your ever-changing face.

They watched the heavens,

awaiting your return each month

and marked the days of your growing brightness

to light the path for the hunt and their returning

journeys home.

 Your cycle echoes that of our own,

from the darkness of our mother’s womb

Into the dawning of our life.

We travel toward the brightness of our days

and in time fade like summer’s bloom,

back to the dust of our beginnings.

 O glorious faithful Moon,

who signs our destiny and bows before the Sun,

remind us always of our God,

In all life’s changes,

and in all your dances with the stars . . .

For we, like you . . . are made to shine,

each a spark of that One Eternal Light.

Joanne Cucinello

2000

Rim of Gold (revised)

                                                                 

At the edge of my body lies a rim of gold.

I am encased in light and alive within my soul ~

my soul that holds me close and remembers who I am.

My feet may touch the earth, but the crown

of my head points to where I came from.

I am here to learn from this beautiful earth

and from those who walk beside me. And as I do,

the sky receives the rays of my eternal soul ~

the Thread of my Connection.

When I leave this place, I will shed my skin like an overcoat,

my bones will turn to ash, but I will step out into forever

with all my colors shining, and my true heart ablaze

and ready for the ride back home.

There they will know me, and greet me like a new born child

arrived with gifts wrapped in my swaddling clothes

and I will hand them all the earthly pearls

God’s blessed grace bestowed.

Joanne Cucinello   2017

                                                               

I Dreamed a Dream

I dreamed a dream that took me home to Brooklyn and the home I loved on Linden Street.  You know how dreams are.   Back and forth I traveled in time, colors dark and light, swirling.  A brown wood door stood closed before me and I knocked, listening for feet. They came to the other side shuffling.

A woman, my aunt, old and white haired now, turned the knob and opened it, and I saw a golden light stream into the room and fill it.  I told her I was to meet my Mother here.  She said she'd come at four this afternoon.  All of them, my mother's sisters, were sitting on kitchen chairs shaking their heads and wiping their eyes, saying to each other . . . "She's not coming, poor thing, she never should have said that."

My heart began to sink, another lie, just keep pretending. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw another room, dimly lit and a bed with a worn suitcase on it, opened and strewn with clothes.  There she stood, my Mother, still in her coat and frailer than I remembered.  My Mother, tear stained and seemingly afraid to come to me.  Oh, I was so happy and relieved!

"Mommy!" I cried, and ran to her like a little girl again, wrapping my arms around her saying how much I loved her and missed her for so long.  She held me too and I could feel her hair against my cheek.  The whole room began to fill with that golden light.

She kissed my face all over, just the way she always did when I was small, and she smiled that smile I've waited to see again . . . for all my life.  My gift, my answered prayer . . . She was waiting for me there, and all I had to do was knock.

Joanne Cucinello  2014

No Regrets

The years

are filled with stories

stories woven

with a gilded thread

to make a heart.

Silver hairs are falling

soft upon this loom

like feathers ~

pillows touching

slept on through the years

finding comfort  ~

gazing some nights

across the sheets

to that place

where heaven rests

Oh . . . these have been

the best days

the best choice

ever, ever made!

Joanne

Drop the Oars

The edge of morning is dark before sunrise

magical and fertile with imagination.

Expectancy and renewal await the dawn

so different from dusk, when the long night begins.

We must let go of the day 

to restore our bodies and walk 

through the door of sleep, but

it can be difficult to surrender 

to the dark subconscious mind. 

It asks us to abandon any thought 

of tomorrow's fate. This is not always easy.  

Ask any insomniac.

To sleep in that cocoon of dreamtime

requires trust ~ trust that we will rest protected.

Anything can happen while we sleep.

The world we know could end!  

We might wake up to hear that war has started

or someone close has died. We fear it could be us.

But then comes the morning!  We're alive!!

A new child is born somewhere at daybreak

and our ears are set to hear some joyful news!

That long awaited phone call comes 

a friend is at our doorstep,

a note arrives to say "I'm sorry".  

The blessed light brings hope.

The God who loves us 

guides the boat of our souls in the dark

while we sleep and drop the oars.

A new day breaks filled with possibilities 

and we're reborn to live another day.