Tiny Branches That Hold Up the Moon

By Danielle Sainte-Marie

This eclectic epub book of poetry contains everything from zen inspired poems to Shakespearean-like sonnets. A bit of Lewis Carroll whimsy was thrown in for good measure too! All written by acclaimed poetess and authoress Danielle Sainte-Marie. Don't know her work yet? Better get on board!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312665033

Book preview

Tiny Branches That Hold Up the Moon

Tiny Branches that Hold Up the Moon

by

Danielle Sainte-Marie

Dedication: This is to all the people in the world that wish to get a glimpse of something extraordinary. It is for all the people who don’t seek answers in life; rather, to those that just seek an experience of being alive.

Acknowledgements: This book couldn’t have happened without the support of so many wonderful people in my life: Chloe, Raquel, Margaret, Clover, John, and my two cats, Biscuit and Squeak. All of you are more special to me than I can ever express.

Namaste!

ISBN# 978-1-312-66503-3

A Lilac Shadows Publishing book.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Lilac Shadows Publishing in conjunction with Lulu House.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition: July 20, 2014

(My Muse, Saraswati. Thank you for trusting me with your insights.)

Select the Tale that You Love Most (An Opening Essay to Free Your Mind)

My life and world are the dreams of Shiva, who is asleep on the lotus pond of eternity.

My life and world are not the dreams of Shiva, and he is not asleep on the lotus pond of eternity.

My life is redeemed by Jesus Christ, my Saviour, and by his sacrifice for all the worlds’ sins.

My life is not redeemed by Jesus Christ; he is not my saviour, and he made no sacrifice for my sins.

My spiritual direction is Mecca, and to the birthplace of Gods’ prophet Muhammad I bow in praise of Allah.

My spiritual direction is not towards Mecca, and I feel nothing towards Muhammad, and I do not praise Allah.

I am a child of Israel, and I have a covenantal relationship and duty before G-d.

I am not a child of Israel, and I have no covenant with G-d.

I embrace all faiths, and, as such, am ecumenical towards them all. Shiva, Jesus, Allah, and G-d are all my redeemer, direction, life and world, and I am a child of each.

I do not embrace any faiths, and I am undecided in my life as to which way—if any—that I may want to pursue.

I do not believe in the practice of religion and I do not believe in god.

My way of not believing in the practice of religion is a religion, and to disbelieve in god I must first accept my belief in its concept.

Such is the way of life—we all have an interest in god/gods to some degree, but each expresses it differently. Some express it by saying they have no interest in god, which is, actually, quite a deep interest. Some spend more time fighting against god and religion than religionists spend in worship of said god. This is an obsessive interest in god known as active atheism. Thus, they promote god more than they damage his/her/its reputation.

Whichever way you choose to go, you will find your path is irrational. If you are a Buddhist, seeking to get rid of desire, you seek Buddhism out of your desire to not have desires. Don’t let that commentary sting. I am a Ninpo Mikkyo Tibetan Buddhist (which means I embody Hinduism and Buddhism, and the law of the Ninja), so that statement was about me too. If you are a Christian, you will have to wonder why God couldn’t protect his Bible from being distorted, and why the Holy Spirit stuttered or men just heard it wrong when it spoke. (Many mistakes in the Bible; and, why the warning at Revelation 22:18-19?)

The point is that all paths are irrational, just like the number Pi. The paths and the number Pi have no known endings or solutions, so instead they just go on and on and on; it is a mystery, and so are gods and so are religions and so are you.

So, stop fighting other religions, and stop fighting yourself; we all follow irrational paths, because with god, there is no solution and no ending. There is no truth, about any of it. Just select the story you love most, and be humble about the spiritual revelations you are bound to have while traveling along. All of these paths have a piece of the divine lying in wait for you, and yet, like Pi, another digit or experience added still leaves the puzzle unsolved. In other words, being irrational is the finest way to go. It’s the only way you can continually add to your knowledge, no?

Namaste!

~Danielle Sainte-Marie, July 14, 2014, Cedar City, UT

Tiny Branches that Hold Up the Moon

I have seen tiny branches hold up the moon,

water open doors but not be impugned;

like a dirt-cravened, wide-eyed woman falling into a ditch,

I am the poetess, surprised the pen is her niche.

I have seen clouds patrolling the waistline of a woman,

She who brings storms just by being feminine—

a pocket-sized woman yet with power over the spacial,

I have written of our equator as being her navel.

I have seen all the world’s truths in the bow of a student,

with confidence and humbleness, he was fluent—

and I thought, "the heaviest ships still float on the sea,

but can be sunk by one normal, everyday flea."

Because, I have seen a paper put into a bottle,

and watched it dance with the ocean, a constant wobble—

known of it making its way across the world,

where for an idiot its message was unfurled.

I have seen how delusion curves the road ahead,

and when free of doubt, the road straightens instead.

I have had 6 seconds to choke out a light millions of years away,

so I turned the rushlight off, and called it child’s play.

People have asked me to pray that a loved one gets well,

so I just got up and walked around and broke the spell;

I was once asked to recite my poems with one breath and one omit,

so I exhaled loudly and said, That’s the half of it.

And again about those branches: I have seen a person enter one,

he put it inside his jacket and the deed was done.

Later, we decided to walk around the earth,

and so we did—in steps around the living room we set forth.

I have seen presents made with string around empty space;

noticed the way the air was so pretty in shimmers and lace.

I crossed every bridge by stepping over just one puddle,

built every building with the completion of a jigsaw puzzle.

When asked who created the world, I simply bowed,

to this other confused god, an answer I felt I owed.

When she was holding a statue of the Buddha and asking where it should go,

I simply fluffed up for her a few nice pillows.

I heard a politician speak and the rest of the world went deaf;

I saw a farmer sow and then someone else became a chef.

When the lights go out, where do they go?

I think they must have been needed again by Van Gogh.

And when I looked for Buddha and for Christ,

I heard their sayings in the dog that barked twice;

for all around me has been amazing mystery;

I hope you too have eyes so closed that you can finally see.

Explanation of Tiny Branches that Hold Up the Moon

I have seen tiny branches hold up the moon,

water open doors but not be impugned;

like a dirt-cravened, wide-eyed woman falling into a ditch,

I am the poetess, surprised the pen is her niche.

(From a certain perspective, it appears with the eye that the moon is being held up by a tree’s branches, such as this book’s cover.

I have watched floods do horrible damage, opening doors and crashing into homes, but yet the water is not condemned for being what it is.

The woman here craves dirt but she is not in it until she falls. Is it an accident? I wonder. The dirt represents the Shadowy side of ourselves that we want but deny.

Sometimes, even today, I am surprised that I am a poetess. What does it really mean to be so, and why do I love this pen so much?)

I have seen clouds patrolling the waistline of a woman,

She who brings storms just by being feminine—

a pocket-sized woman yet with power over the spacial,

I have written of our equator as being her navel.

(There is a strong feeling towards the Gaia Principle today—that of the entire planet being an ecosystem. So, I imagined that her (the earth’s) waistline would be the equator—and that her personality would be up, then down, producing clouds just for being feminine.

But, then I flipped the idea on its head and said she is pocket-sized. The earth is, in fact, much less than that in the total universe. And yet, even in its tininess it has power in space to command a presence.

When viewed up close by a human being, the earth may seem to be immense. Yet, it’s really not. Or is it?

The final line eludes to her—our earth—as being our birth mother, as the navel [the equator, outside center of the planet] is where the umbilicus is attached.)

I have seen all the world’s truths in the bow of a student,

with confidence and humbleness, he was fluent—

and I thought, "the