January 7, 2010 | 2:38 am

Transcend dance

Posted by Emily Stern

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HAVE YOU HEARD YOUR MUSIC YET?!
may you be grounded in the forest of
being kissed by your own hands and head
blessing blessing
The breath of the endless.
The touch of a nothing.
the meaning of melting
The heart that is still.

WE HELP YOU PLAY YOUR PART OF
I HAVE NOTHING TO PLAY. my own heart
gives up, and underneath is the place we are inside.
and there are flowers whose petals transcend their own wombs.

and more light love shines through; she’s singing with light.
and more comes to include the love that is golden; has made
room for your view and yet she transcends what is not yet here
water engraved in her
we are switching names. take hope to a river so she can transform her
to prove faith in nothing- no concept of love
except i keep inviting the you that is here—to make me your home….

I am all empty
so full of what knows you
so we can transcend it by hoping
higher is higher
open by nature
the sweet smell of flowers
their pollen their powers
are ecstatic inviting
their very own selves

are extra inviting to their very own selves
are you surprised that love has to know you and wait for your answer when she comes to tell you that you are their one.

Are you surprised when love comes a knocking to tell you that you are the one who’s inside? and you have transcended your love just through talking through filling her love to
seeing the leaves and notice the light inside of the living
is just like the light inside of the heart.
and all I am outside is all I am inside
and all that’s about me is always without me.

And All I am to you will always allude you if it won’t include you I’ll move you
I’ll find you one day so deep in the forest of songs
that are fingers with rings and melodies too BIG to feel
Just know that they hold you
You know them- they now true.

But what is so known seems to be said.
love is so known, it is seamless yet sown.
within this our home is outside our door
Yet you are inside me, so the truth is come see me
and laugh or come be me.
and pretend you are home.

How deeply is this prayer for peace, she is swollen
and harbors the whole universe.
She would have to love all the way she
spins up her spine I have her my smiles
I give her my love.
My mind is the world spilling from outside
space that is including the white as a cloud
blue as the waters that know all their daughters are mermaids
who do true true I hid in transcendence until I was able to name myself.
that the world is a healer so large that the sounds does not let me see
but I would break into pieces
if i knew the movement or i knew her dance
if i let her move me
i know she would soon see how open our hearts could change
the whole world by bringing her….
wingless as saturdays
that do not wear faces
masks that give back the masks they thought they were given.
vivid

but there’s a real definition that does not remember
the mode to create
of song do not create do not forget enough to make remembrance
if what is
must come down
be herself, be not
I do not know and yet
I want to know
more than what…
all i want to know is what you transcend
To know the what we live in
in the very thing we are
not transcending
that is not a coincidence
we meet inside a transcending you
a me that is hardly faceless
from the inside… I am you. The outside is transcending peace
our place of residence
called home called where we were in the moment of saying not….

lover, be yes to all senses to define the unreal
to enliven the already transcended you.
he who touches whose touch inside me is outside is all the answers you want are transcending the idea that they themselves
are carpets without out clouds.
that hold them the tree branches dangling from a world that knows limits are letting them touch the limitless ocean
who names herself ocean.
to only find limits created don’t finish the wholeness of living you say let me
you know it’s we who
again, thinking that you are inside me
gives the impression of wanting and something we are do not stop and do not change and do not do the same thing ever t touch is you moving me as wild as thought.
as wingless as moon
suspended by seeing
is not believing I understand me lets see if i can
forget to remember that forgetting remembers what you are.
that all form died to forget the memory of magic
was only a name that feels like a promise.
because my love is collected in a jar that is endless
and will someday transcend me
Time was not wasted

But never existed.

I speak of authenticity
that is only a word
it’s not what i said
it’s more what was heard.
more like what you heard.

jump through leaves
just into the leaves
and feel yourselves in waves
washing nothing away.

i am washing nothing clean so that what is seen
can be seen.
see that what is unseen is also felt….
is more real

love is in the house

Inside is outside
and my life is your life and your eyes are your

to see yourself.
and my own is not mine and this is in no time
so timeless that time cannot know herself.

plant your feet in love.

there are no stings attached
there is nothing for
me to attach to.

December 24, 2009 | 2:50 pm

Brand New

Posted by Emily Stern

Fear
is the bookmark
Holding the place
Of all we are
meant to do

I’ve started to sing
What these pages bring
A sound that is brand new.

The butterfly’s
No longer too shy
To show her patterns divine
I give thanks to the breaks
That told me to wait
And held me till I came alive.

The mother who strokes
my hand sets me free
As I mutter the words,
I believe that Thee

enlighten the questions I posed as a child
While I learn about what grace is,
I tread the line between doing just fine
and knowing we all fall on our faces.

                                        Emily Stern…... April 2007

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December 13, 2009 | 1:38 pm

Modestly

Posted by Emily Stern

I don’t play hard to get, I just am.
I do not play modest on purpose
cause only intellectually do we exist in form.
Maybe Gd wants you all to Herself.
Maybe that’s what it’s all about, and
You are being modest when you days that this is good.
How can this love be in the physical?

Our souls encased in glass. . .

She encased in trust,

Our soul encased as us.

She can’t be “figured out” the only face to love.
The mystical not mystified? Forever I am open. To being touching
me inside.

and if forgiveness surrounds us, the better to see you with, my dear. 
and maybe this has always been my problem:
that we pretend it isn’t here.

waiting in the WHEN AND WHERE for what has already been shown (told).

 

I’m always Waiting for the perfect question, for the perfect prayer. 
Waiting for your permission to let you be there.

your soul is a body forgotten in form, teach me the point of creation.
I have no concept of love.

To put your left foot in and turn it inside out. 

Modesty is not concealed, modestly she is revealed. A tiny little body, a tiny little thought, that everyone is gd. and enough is enough.  You are free. ALWAYS FREE….
to love me.

believe me, I do not know how I work.

i have seen all the realms of women
who do not even know of power

and water is the
Why do I do what I do?
All the reasons are none. Just let Her
be known. Her name is Sinai. And one lifetime is too small.

 

Let there be all.

Let me know how deeply this has been sanctified
Forever
Soul, I open.
To being
touched
from inside
We are Mystified. The back of our hearts glowing,

The back of the head: spring. I see so much blue. Like the one of the sky is the one of the open open open open alive in the ocean of you.
I am modest intellectually, only purposefully did I exist in form.

To watch you Ask about the existence of gd

Like I ask about This world:
does This World really exist? Just because she can be seen? she can be heard?

 

In modesty we have been most revealed, modestly complete, concealed. In modesty, most revered and most misunderstood.

Have rules really been made by you? How am I to sing?
Not As one Should! and certainly not as one thinks! So only intellectually do I exist in form!
Endlessly patient, Let us figure it all out. Must our figures rely on facts?

I am no longer a child who believes without a body. Thank you for this honor.

Too good to not be true. How to see?

Only symbolically. In extremes and the balance of song and speech and praise

and doubt.

There’s something to a melody that loves with all her mind.

Forever Soul I am hoping we are touched from deep inside.

May 2009

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December 5, 2009 | 11:49 pm

what we are

Posted by Emily Stern

Ideal, hold this idea:
I wonder what we are
it’s effortless to twinkle like a star.
Around me, all the Banshees Dance.
and hide before a response can be given.
but this is what I’d tell them, if they want to listen:
all I want to say is what wants to be said.
all I want to tell, you tell me with yourself,
ours is open to the one
who speaks all i want to see is truly what we are,
and we hide before we can say this name.
All Around the Banshees Dance:
there is absolutely nothing that this could mean.
you are touching me so deeply
it cannot be seen.

but what is truth when I am with you?
Once I had something I could say,
but all I am is wordless essence wondering
yes.  There is absolutely nothing this could be
I am touched by you so freely it can not be seen.

The only thing I can hear is the beauty
that we are loved and just right here we are.
All around the Banshees dance.
what flame is not a flame?
what heart is not meant to belong again?
and all this love is around me
Hides before I can respond
to pretend that I am speaking or seeking would feel wrong
All around the banshees dance
what flame is not a flame?
what heart is not meant to belong again?
I do not have a story
although I told you one.
I just want to be heard before I hear
every single thing is ears
Can you feel the branches dance
if I close your eyes
maybe I will be the one who hides….
If we close my eyes
bless us like a star
always full of wonder
that we are

What Flame is not a flame?
What heart is not meant to be
long again?

e.stern

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November 20, 2009 | 2:06 am

So

Posted by Emily Stern

Re:

Dear Soulful Friend,
Use the dust of west and east, north and south,
family is blessed be blessed
family is blessed.
and “linked”
This (your soupful letter, text not quoted) makes thoughts come about this week’s Torah portion. i’ve been looking at this section about esau/jacob birthright
Esau asks “what use is it?”
what is the use? what is it to me?  i know the feeling from that place, a question: what is this use? use me, longing
to be used. what it’s use is
is longing to have a use.
what is this use?
to use of this?
and this is the question asked.
before the birthless in esau
becomes the birthless of yaakov.
What is the use of that which cannot be used?
and this place of I, can it
move?

what is the use of anything,
and the birthright was a promise
intended for the one who holds it.
by having that which is.
and so my blessing to you, my love, is this:
that we may know where that place will past tense led me. inside this question is a forgotten answer. remember that place of you. which is a bursting memory, whose only fog is the cloud of g-d. Isaac’s only sight has been for you, he who remains unseen,  he who would never have slept if he had known, has been told for many things i’ve used you for, and there ever is a use.

and father’s answer comes clearly from jacob when he asks him “are you esau,” jacob does not lie, in saying “it is I.” This is the place of birth in daylight. from soul to soul and innermost blessing you. the abundance of life has come from soup, that he may give, his soul to you, and blessing used by one of use, the innermost, holy truth, if ever there’s to be a use, love was told to leave the land,
and this is now the game of trust, for what’s the use if it is used up? esau plays a game of trust. what’s the use of using us once the use has been used up? what’s the use of being used?
and jacob now has seen his truth: even
angels can be moved! and make a lie to move through soup and be disguised
up and down.
always choosing. and never thought That place could move, or look like a boring field man too, or
use a “ladder” like workers do,

but they ask again that they be used. knowing that to ask the use before given has been asked again.

ask again that i may see the place that you make use of me.
where
so intended then is all that is.
the message received was accurate, infinite.
father lost and sight is soup, love is warmth, and blessed are you.just inside of whats the use, lies the heart of blessing given by a father’s flock, yaakov finds his one and only in the field that he forgot was worthy of a single place, especially the kind that faceless is. the one who looks a lot like blessing has been blessed by every nothing.

love finds his field his brother knew, had he asked for soul not soup.
that’s the truth the birthright now. although i have no idea what i want to say to you. it just makes me think of soup and how i would rather love so much more than eat, and yet i am so hungry and broken, and in hunger asking what’s the use of no use, as much as esau what’s the use? of birthright, can i hands that move.
the yearner of the purpose here, bringing life, i miss you, and honor so much your hope and wish, and hope you know perfection, yes, and the place where motion meets the moveless, and the point where heaven meets the earth, and never think they’re separate worlds. and thank you for sharing your thoughts, i am wanting something clearer than this story. i am interested in it, but what is there to say, i mean, jacob gives the blessing in this way. esau gives his blessing away, and i guess that’s like just what it is. if it happens once it can happen again, and women give birth so will she again and she is a woman, so if not now then when? blesses his wife in blessing that son, and blessing himself is everyone.

and jacob now lives the land of blessing in the light from the guilt, from a life of the blessed in the loss of the guilty. is the point what was done, does it matter how it happened? that jacob has received this blessing, does gd come because it’s part of it, or because it’s actually what has always been? is this all what’s meant to be, and can his freedom now be a fallacy, how can this be given a face or given a faceless value? so what’s the use of soup? for never have you used and there ever is a use.

i thank this holy question for using me, and jacob true blessing is that one may see the soul and soup of feeding be the place that moves us as we. the difference between made and used. giving fertilizing getting.
They all knew the part that does not know of you. and also the place of soul, so beyond the named or used. For many things i have been used. ask again that i may see that place that has no use of me.

there’s so much more to say about this. my soup of soup has compounded every thought by soul and truth. and so i welcome that i use nothing but what’s given through, it’s all i’d want, i promise you. i promise you the guilt i feel is the clothing of the want and fear.  in the waiting of the one of real:
is anything really real?and even G-d who comes to yaakov, is it just because of esau, or is it here without a struggle, i wish it were so, and even that to make a wish, to not to see the whole of it. and if Isaac knew the truth would he say “it is not you?” or is that all there ever was. the one and only name of love is awakened by a blessing, so may this womb be filled and healthy, by the soup of mother nature, by the home of you bring your soul, and here is child to be grown. child come, child, home. through whichever means you are, story guide him not too far, sorry is a jealous rage, hunger anger any thing, let not this hunger lest i forget to wonder
what’s the use of this
life?
and also what’s the use, to think that i could know the use?  to think that i could ever know what i am being used for. and to assume that For is any
other than, or more, or plenty.
fortune told where fortune gets me, birthright gotten by way of soup, the same way that it came to you. let it go for what is true, was always knowing . . .
child. bigger than a fallacy, a blessing, or a way to see. bigger than a born into, bigger than a mine and you, bigger than a past of brother, wishing I, or want another. bigger than what nurture be is a land that flows
where mother lives.
where mother is.
where mother are we.
talk about a bigger purpose. mother knows what is worth it.

I am just a little promise inside it too. i do not know whats good or bad, or if i am saying something that’s life armor, but i believe in a bigger purpose something beyond my words and beyond my prayers and it’s the only thing that’s worth it that there’s just a worth of you. not separate from other woman, wish her child all her wisdom, rebecca loved. i wish that i could say what’s true and bridge a gap of what’s unbroken. 
and even that i break a promise that the truth may be the top. to show that every promise promised is much bigger than we thought,

rebecca loved.

 

family, be blessed and “linked”, family is blessed.

 

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October 31, 2009 | 6:28 pm

mother

Posted by Emily Stern

                                                                                                        May 26, 2009

          Mother

              You Have Been Praised
                          in many realms, The Ones where greatness

laughs and   plays

                                        like all.

Pleasing Is the presence of your being,  Made the best in making.    In All that is Now   Knowing and still,  owning all that is,  loving all,  that isn’t yet free   That will be.   

  laughter plays in all.

      All the depth inside the self
      she does not know division. she has no need or reason now to know
      that all the world holds you
                                        as her flower, mother
                                                                              water friend grain
                                                                                      under the surface
                                                                                      deeper still
under the being,                  over the oxygen             deep still in between

 

 

                                                              too like the secret of the air
                                                                       

                                                                              that is not kept.                                             

                                                                         
                                                                          be any tone or any answer and everyone knows
                                                                                        that is known that everyone knows
                                                                                                      their breath is a song.
      Is it never too long before the lungs  
      release, receive your love.
 

 

                                                                          Love the secret of the air
                                                                                      that is not kept
                                                                                          by anyone.

                                                                                                    over there,     
              and over here, 
              breath our own. 
              to be known.
      as laughter’s greatest gift.

                                                              All the world is here   Speaking   Spoken to about
                                                                                          by her friend
                                                                                          being stone being spoken.
                                              Being someday, being summer,
          being known in bloom.
                                                  Do not stop the whole bride  
                                                  that is not broken that only is   Open                  
                                                  to be held         and spoken to        
                                                  by This I           mean the world    
                               
                                                  will set her free.
   
    through endless hoping
                                                                ocean sky
                  air are wings
                      waving high
                                                          high.

              Holds the              
                                    hands of seeds                     that balance
                          she who opens               breathes                     the grounded laughter
bellows over heaven,                                                           
                                                                                        beckons still the earth.
                              a grounded Take on Living Dreams      

                                                        they are awakened
                                                                                                and laughter seems
                                                                                                Like the ones a faerie told
         
            Once          
                                                                                                and for All to Mother word.
                                                                                                To the pace
                                                                                                where words are heard.
                                                                                            by laughter’s living tales you are.

            One
                        of ‘May I ‘s?’
    spring time
                 
                                                                      birds
                                                                      feathers are the flower’s friends
                                   
                                                                  that You teach me to forgive the Self
                                                                                  by being Love Herself.

  by knowing every heart still knows        
                                        how to glow
                                        by letting go              
                                            like all that grows        
                          somehow           complies           with all           the leaves that come to fly          
                                                     
by falling towards the ground.                                                                          Learning how to
give. to
laughter
                                                                    lighting
                                                                    as all that is.
                                                                                   
                                                                                                                    from forgiveness
                                                                           
                                                                                                                      held by grace.
                                                                                                                            Hannah.
                                                                       
                                                                                                              Held her precious face
                                                                           
                                                                                                                  draped in spacious
                                                                                                                        wholeness.

                    here.

                                                                                  love is her very own.
                                                                          to give and never owned by anything
                                                  like the air.
                                                                                         
                                                                                            we sand of where does the shore go?
                                                                                            she living loves comes building homes
                                                                                            in places
                                                                                                            that are already homes
            birds believe
                  like we believe
      in all trees have in store.    Like the tops of these
                                                      from one love
                                                                to another
                           
like sunshine
          does with
                just a speck of water
                                                                  show you always her
                                                                  timeless
                                                                                    self,

She who                                                                                               will dance.                                                                                                                                 on       laughter’s                                                                                                                                                                                                 wings.

               

 

 

 

  P.S.  laughter lives         in mother’s           trees
        with air that breathes               somehow golden              
                      somehow
                                      green.

 

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October 28, 2009 | 2:01 am

This Ground

Posted by Emily Stern

Standing on this ground
Always having been
Never haven known
how to admit my woes,
i feel the squish between my toes
wishing myself on the side of right
where serenity abounds
until I land on higher ground.

but there is love here, if I let it be there,
so I welcome
the glare
From the judgment
that’s lifting
Where old paths of justice
are finally shifting
And I’m sifting
through
this mossy shame
Before throwing it away.

Devoted to the aesthetics
of tree trunks and rivers,
Chutes and ladders of a
Rerouted day deliver
Pillars of progression
Filtering lesson after
Lessening the journey
Of one way.

                Take the socks off my feet,
                i would heal the earth,
                but she’s here healing me.
                I am a woman who stands when she’s called,
                threats are a challenge, or mean nothing at all.
                I am a woman of tea cups and listening
                of a candle alight with simplicity that’s glistening.
                beauty is wine, growing deeper with time,
                blessed with a voice to speak, with a song to sing
                and the ability to release what I need not bring,

I’m wholly impressed
by this perfectionist
Choosing to use the most perfect word, Let.
Let the wildebeest come and undress her roar
Let your commandments nourish the love that I thaw,
Let me trust in faith beyond the wounds I bear
Let me be still long enough to feel the air,
Let the truth be sung till we all understand
we have always stood on the promised land.

                    Like the bird on stilts
                    Where what’s the point,
                    Anoint this ground,
                    sisters, anoint.

For natural catastrophes
No longer seem to worry me
my spirit and this song
Are free but joint,

                    take the socks off my feet,
                    i would heal the earth,
                    but she’s healing me.

                     
                        -This Ground,
                  © april 2007 Emily Stern

 

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October 26, 2009 | 4:30 pm

That This Is Here

Posted by Emily Stern

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