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Mirinda Fleenary

The same little bringers of joy
(each their own)
have a corresponding darkness.
Incentive is bleached to tatters.
Innate knowledge of expiration
fails to incite movement.

Life appears senseless because the senses are inadequate.

Don’t discount the ordinary.
The earth is made of poems
and every time we touch
a sacred act has taken place.

Mirinda Fleenary

Mastery is secondary,
first comes raw desire.
But the former stays with you.

When you said,
I do love you too… you know…
I said, I know… in your way you do…
(and I’ve written you a letter explaining all I know on the subject)

but I didn’t say
that when I said
I love you I meant I love you
like there are rotating constellations in my eyes and I’m four years old
outstretching my arms to signify the bigness of the universe
and I know the fully vulnerable truth of your mortal bones,
still, I make this gesture of belief in your holiness.

I do want to hear you sing.
Unpracticed,
as if you are walking alone and noticed how
everywhere around your body
hearts are beating
(bugs, birds, people, animals, us)
and all of these heartbeats
are synchronized
religiously.

Mirinda Fleenary

The skin begins unflinchingly
with the breathable ability
to grow in space.

Then illness,
the hurdle of mortality,
and judgment
based on ignorance.

Acknowledging is resisting when
it is
to have known intimately the infection
of dignity which crazed humanity
into lynching itself, and to have taken an autopsy of human reason,
(of what evolved into and out of imprisonment)
and to have come to the place,
(even beyond brokenness, anger, tragedy)
the amazing place,
(that after visiting we all want to tell about)
where forgiveness
helped us find our radiance
and freed it.

Mirinda Fleenary

Not stagnancy,
but the unremitting agony
of being separated from God
because you are separated
from yourself.
Checked by the realization that God and the Self commune,
which annihilates separation
and replaces it
with Ecstatic
Union.