Choices Scarcely Recalled | A Poem

In my youth, I spoke with God during the confluence of night and dawn. He has since wandered off to tend to unknown matters; leaving me to mutter to myself.

The Whole of Life in a Day | A Poem

  by L.M. Browning for V.   I have become Mrs. Dalloway, throwing parties to cover the silence.   Come with me to the lighthouse. It is time to settle the unspoken.   I’ll buy the flowers myself. Scattering the petals along the shore so I can find...

The Necessity of Solitude

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations Who are we without our influencers; without our addictions; without our media-induced hungers? So often the voices we hear echoing in our mind are not our own but that of our...

During the Long Day, Over the Sacred Night

Over the Long Day, Over the Sacred Night —A Selection from Fleeting Moments of Fierce Clarity   I lost myself somewhere between the dawn and dusk.   Somewhere, in serving you I lost my self-worth.   Somewhere, in trying to survive I sold what gave the...

Summer’s Passing | Poem

        An excerpt from Fleeting Moments of Fierce Clarity: Journal of a New England Poet   Sparks from the fire were cast into the sky— for a moment able to live as red stars of the Milky Way. The balance tips and we pass into the darkness....

Intimacy without Interference

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations Since my curiosity concerning the great mystery first emerged, I have believed that we are meant to gather an understanding of the divine from firsthand experience. While I hold a reverence for...

Allow the Infinite to be Infinite

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   Life doesn’t have a singular purpose and yet we try to pigeonhole this infinite gift by searching for a single meaning behind our existence. We hunger for meaning the way a starving man...

My Flesh and Blood | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries   My ghosts rattle through the house, The same now, as they did decades ago Upon the nights of their creation. Once tormenting me with the memories they carry, I have grown accustom to their presence, Tending them as if...

Know thy Self

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   There are so many things that distort our character. Fatigue, emptiness, anger, trauma, illness, addiction, the media... So many things are pulling on us—twisting us to become someone we...

The Cure

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   The cure for what ails is not to be found in a capsule. Our renewal must instead come from within. Synthetics are administered to the body yet they cannot reinforce the heart or re-weave...

The Nature of Our Relief

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   We all have those things that help us carry on through life. It is important that these things upon which we depend for daily strength are healthy for our character rather than harmful....

Simplicity

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   There are days when life is complex and I require some answer to the how’s and whys that surround the mysterious forces at work in my life. And still there are days when life is simple,...

Work to be Done

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   Do not hold a lazy faith. Miracles are not spontaneous events we must wait for helplessly. Miracles are an achievement—a breakthrough accomplished by those who pushed themselves beyond...

The Seed

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations   Dreams are the gestation of a future reality. We do not come into being fully formed; rather, we gather, build, and grow. So too our matured identity—what we will be and do in this...

My Religion Is New England | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries   My feast days come When the apples are ripe And the blueberries Hang heavy with juice. My communal wine Is the crisp salty liquor sipped From the oysters that grow Along the black rocks in the bays. On the afternoons when...

Dormant Answers | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries   I sat for a time by the burning bush. A naked child among the harsh winds yet, while the flames were high, they gave no warmth. I sat for a time at the foot of the mountain waiting for the prophet to descend, in need of...

In the Wake of the Attacker | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   The knife goes in up to the hilt twisted by a hand once taken in trust, and life must change. Do not fear what comes next. Let the attacker flee, betrayal heavy on his...

After the Flood | A Poem

by L.M. Browning | Visit the Bookstore»   Sweet songbird, vibrantly passing midst the drab and the silence of this small room of resignation sing for...

The Familiar Mystery | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries   Within the muddle of influences I listen for my voice. Extracting myself from all that I was taught So to be free to remember what I knew. Do we ever see our own face? Wipe off the thick make-up of parody So to be free to...

Unwanted Bedfellows | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries I live in a house filled with ghosts. The cat sees them, waking from a dead sleep to stare out into the emptiness where the demons dance, disembodied. I used to see them, when I was a child, unaccustomed to being haunted. Their...

Ashes, Dust and Air | A Poem

A selection from Vagabonds and Sundries   And in that moment I saw The beginning, Middle And end And surrendered myself To the climb, The leap And the fall We all must...

Upon the Desert Wind | A Poem

Upon the Desert Wind A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging Photo by Adrian   I want to make a pilgrimage back to our homeland of sand, blood, and ripened figs. To unearth the garden I planted in another life the...

Searching for Hidden Doors | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   You must be a child to find the hiding places where the unseen ones dwell just beyond the veil. The logic of the adult cannot think beyond the four walls, —blind to the...

Approach Yourself with an Open Hand | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   Choose to be your own lover. Be gentle with yourself. do not pummel yourself or take a harsh tone. Encourage rather than discourage. Choose to be your own mother. Sit calmly...

Student of the Beloved | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   The questions have surmounted all certainties. Too many days are frittered away feigning wisdom, all the while knowing that, if I am to cover that distance between myself...

This Vast Humbling Reality | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   Give me a shawl of homespun gauzy cotton. For I’ve had enough of walking bare-faced and bold-headed among all that is greater than I. Without announcement the Divine brushes...

Where the Story Left Off | A Poem

A selection from In the Hands of the Immortal Weaver: Poems of Sacredness and Belonging   At night the soul peeks out from under the hood of this body. Slinging ink about, desperate to leave a message for the one with heavy eyes and shaking bones, telling them to...

Clarity in the Darkness

A Selection from Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations I find I suffer from sensory overload. The speed of the daylight world deafens and overwhelms. Night is more to my pace—the solemn simplicity and the space for rumination. Life still possesses a...