Category: poems

New Year’s Poem

One year ago,
at nearly this very minute,
i was being rushed
to the hospital.

The bits of me
that were still working
knew i was dying,
and felt grateful
that my suffering
would finally end.

Only, it didn’t.

i survived.

For months,
i was an egg
without a shell,
needing comfort and protection,
crushed by the smallest things,
barely making it through
my obligations.

But my spirit healed.

i have felt more sublime peace
in these past few months
than in the decade before.

It has become the rule,
rather than the exception –
which is why this feels so miraculous.

Today, i have been
unable to focus
on fiction or poem,
on chores or art.
Instead, i have been full
of quiet, thankful prayer.

My bones,
my soul,
have rested
in these thanksgivings.

If i could move
with greater fluidity,
i would be dancing –
but slowly,
to the rhythm
of my heartbeat,
so this spell
of contentment
would not be shattered
by endless nattering thought.

This moment
is a blessing
i almost didn’t experience.

Tomorrow does not come
with any guarantees.

My entire life
gave me the gifts
that led me to this altar
with three candles lit:
one for Love,
one in gratitude,
and one looking forward,
with eager anticipation,
to the miracle
of another year.





Happy New Year,

asha fenn, 1 January 2018

Thank you

Everything in my life is changing and i don’t know quite where it will end up.

But, i am trying again. That, in so many ways, is all that matters.

Art is for sale. Baby steps. My roommates and i have been talking about the potentials for the studio.  The fact that this house is filled with creativity, laughter, hard work and music leaves me overjoyed.

Even so, pain remains.  i regularly get overwhelmed with what i need to do, the art i want to make, the words that flow from me.  Today, i have been struggling hard against the feeling of powerlessness – that i am howling into the void. As i sat thinking about it, i realized the perfect thing to share.  This poem is in my collection New Vocabularies of Love.

And the sentiment has never been more needed in my life than right now.

poem: enough


with the words of brokenness!


The last lingering strands
of coherency and continuity

All that was me
floats freely.

The bridge between
what was
and what will be
like a wishbone,
leaving this wandering mess
of sensation,
and memory,
adrift and rudderless.

All ambition withered,
trapped as it was
in the walled, parched garden,
abandoned by Spirit,
starved alongisde
worry and reputation.

Only the language lingered.

The habits of existence
left marks like chains.

The scripts stayed
hard to surrender.

Like ancient blankets
made soft from use,
though threadbare
to the point of translucence –
and completely useless –
familiarity demanded
they not be tossed aside.

Until now –
the need to be free
over comfort and safety.

Enough of the language
of judgment and hatred.

On to discover
new vocabularies
of love.

7 may 2016

poem: the miracle

Years ago,
i sat up
hands red and raw
from wringing them
in nightmares.

Only now,
every single aspect
of my greatest fears –
losing my home,
my reputation,
going bankrupt,
failing my responsibilities,
being so crippled
in both body and mind
that i cannot make art
much less work
at gainful employment –
has become a reality.

i drowned.

But, then the miracle:
people helped me
out of the murky,

This is the reality
of my nightmare,
and yet,
in the stillness
i hear the soft melody
of grateful joy.

7 may 2016

poem: goddess

In my dreams
there stood a goddess
with one profound power:
she could create
of self,
a complete destruction
of everything within the skin.

If you began to rebuild
out of the rubble
in a way that failed
to satisfy her aesthetic senses,
the ground would shake again
and the edifice of being
would come crashing down.

Each time,
the disintegration
would go further
until the spirit
was reduced
to lonely atoms,
drifting in silence,
searching for the perfect mate.

She grabbed me by the shoulders
and started to shake –
when i awoke
came tumbling out.

i have been taken apart so often,
i cannot remember,
what i was.

21 april 2016

poem: for Darwin the dog.

it started to pour
an hour
after you died.

i could not shake
the feeling
that the Divine
had finally lost
her composure.
My tears were joined
by an ocean
of saltwater rain.

This world is poorer
without your presence.

i can already feel
my will and heart
in the face
of this tsunami
of grief.

You will be
what i search for
in my dreams.

No doubt,
you will wind up
tucked inside
stories and poems
until i surrender
my pen
into death’s hands.

Still, i think of you
as though you remain
tethered to my soul –
i beg for forgiveness,
i give you all my love
and, sweet boy,
know that underneath
this mask of calm
and the unmistakable acceptance,
i ache with loss
and shine with gratitude.

2 may 2016

poem: how many times

How many times
have i prayed,
a monster of need,
tiny hands grasping,
flabby arms flapping,
stewing in hopelessness.

Such desperation
is exhausting,
and it did me no good.

My worst nightmares
have begun to come true
and i cannot rise
to the occasion
than i already stand.

The worst
has begun
coming to pass,
but such losses
with contentment.

The dog’s last breaths
taught me
about gratitude,
about finding
loving kindness
even in agony.

With a teacher like that,
what could i do?

all my praying stopped.

For if i can find
and joy
with this pain,
and failure,
then who am i
to pretend
i know
what i need?

7 may 2016

poem: feathers

Close my eyes
and the world
opens up
into a riot
of color and music.

A few slow breaths
and the wings
of my Spirit
until i can brush
the corners
of Creation
with my feathers.

In the stillness,
quiet becomes music
filling every empty space
with absolute loving joy.

It is so tempting,
to hide within
this glorious refuge
of communion and dream –
but eventually
the eyes must open
and the sounds of life
register upon the ears.

But even awakened,
the experience remains.

i smile with joy
as i remember
those wings
and the infinite bliss
of that sublime

16 december 2015

poem: love in stillness

This love
in the stillness.

In the quiet places
it grows strong
and resilient,
able to bend,
and still maintain
glorious shape and form.

i exist
in this still silence.

i wade in an ocean
impossibly deep
but warm as bath water.

i am becoming
or, at least,
of imagining
fierce confidence
and action.

i have begun
to grow flight feathers
on theses stunted,

i have started to feel
the wind
lifting me up.

31 october 2015