Withering Irises

Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

Rumbling breath beating
Like hearts in the dark morning night
Clustered together we clench on to this momIRIS and Lenaent
Of whispering transition
Unknown mornings
I sit holding this old crone in one arm
With my young babe in the other
As fingers reach to
Feel breath
Feel memories
In your silly fur

I wish it would snow today
So that you could
Wrap your face in white
And vanishing snowballs
One more time
Before we have to face the truth
That you are so much a part of us
In your pitter patter panting presence,
You have done your work old girl
Building a home around us
Before we even knew we needed one.


Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

Death, it isn’t always quick, easy or gentle. Often there are heart wrenching moments of hope that “it” will get better.

But how does mystery heal or get better?

In what ways can wholeness mend except through transmutation?

So we sit, lingering in our aching hearts, as you take your time to finish the work you came to do.

Time makes only room to love you more.


Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

The mysteries of existence
Well in tears
Like drops of light
Rolling down
My daughter’s
Sweet cheeks
Rivers and life
Open vulnerable space
In her mother’s heart.

                                        -rip Danny the bunny


I am all
But within the shivering wholeness
There exists a chaos to which
I am powerless over
And it clings to the threads
Torrid cataclysmic wreckage
Which opens the unmanaged truth
To the life before me
Still I trust, that the releasing
Of control, the leaning
Into surrender
Will bring peace to
The wild, eating me up inside.

Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

Dear Spirit

Dear Spirit,
I appreciate the clear signals
You gift to me
Letting me know where
I should or shouldn’t be headed.

I know I will be there,
I know I am getting closer.

Thank you for clarity and a life
Of service
To that which is divinity.

Still, if I might ask a favor,
I would wish that you continue
To hold me in your grace and love
As I grow.

That I might not fear what comes
From the fire,
Toward my expanding heart.

For what can I bring to the world
If I fear the journey?

This kindling of my spirit
Yearns to grow into the fullness of
Organic magnitude within
One lasting moment
I call this life.

Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

The Morning

Alisa Muniz Blanchard

Dear day
Come forward
Dear day
Come to me
In ribbons of ecstasy
We twist to break free
Knotted and entwined
Division of longing and being
Separation as a declaration
Of embraced
Gratuitous pleasure
Of life anew

Bridge Child:

Alisa Muniz Blanchard copyright 2014

I was born into the arms of my grandmothers
at the bridge,
where darkness touches light
and the colors meet
beginning to mix together
in the great melting pot

Thick like the blood of my ancestors
my grandmothers tears
burned through

Arriving sweet and tender
kisses of life
a newborn
like fragile fragments of hope

Reawakening places
believed long dead and passed
through tattered fragments
promises of tomorrow
were celebrated
with reclaimed threads

Her heart
singing me awake
unto the world
an ancient vibrating life force
pushed into my bones
by her breath

A call to remember what
I was, before
I was born
when darkness touched light
and the colors met and mixed
to create this family’s
children of the bridge

I knew it was time

I knew

Photo by Alisa Muniz Blanchard, all rights reserved

Alisa Muniz Blanchard copyright 2014I knew it was time
when the drumming
sounding less like a heartbeat
became bullets to my soul

I knew it was time
when the rhythm of life
stopped pulsating in my feet
and they refused to dance

I knew it was time
when my spirit song
once vibrant and resounding
ceased to exist

I knew it was time
when the eyes of my loved ones
dampened their light
looking into my blackening eyes

I knew it was time
when morning no longer held
mysterious wonder
in the opportunity waiting ahead

I knew it was time
when waking moments
were cold and dark
like an empty cavern

I knew it was time
when I remembered
the dregs of despair
are but passing shadows

I knew it was time
calling myself back
a summoning of love
to know again:

the beat of a drum,
the rapture of dance,
the cadence of my song,
the spark of light,
the purpose of my life.