My poem “When the bodhisattva wept” published in Return to Mago

Paubha painting showing Vishnu Mandala (15th century). Jayateja, Public domain
O Lotus that blooms from a tear of compassion
fill the air with your intoxicating scent
Remind us
that anywhere there is concern or sympathy for others 
clear water blooms
When the bodhisattva saw the suffering of humanity
a tear formed a lake of pure water
From the clear fresh water grew a single Lotus
From that Lotus stepped the compassion goddess
O dear one, enlightened one
accompany me on this last journey of mine for I am scared
Outside my window the desert lies beneath a sun
killing those who suffer the weight of all civilization on their back
The air here is poisoned with toxins
The water is itself a miracle each time it appears falling over my fingers
yet is refuse recycled from the filth made by people just for the fact that they are human

I sit in a concrete shower
a stranger’s hand be
tween my legs to remove the stink of my existence and that hand is the hand of Tara come to make my transition from flesh to ash peaceful and without pain For that gift O enlightened one you who saw the tears of the world and flew down to bring us beauty I thank you For each indignity I suffer let me see it as a gift a signpost on my way to the other side And let holiness lead me, a craven and flawed creature, the least of all these toiling and struggling souls Let me find peace in the unknowing
Because a tear from the eye of a holy one baptizes me and protects me from all

(Poem) Ostara in the Key of Bach by Donna Snyder — Return to Mago E*Magazine

Ostara in the Key of Bach for Leslee Becker while listening to Bach’s Suite I for Unaccompanied Violoncello Prelude On the vernal equinox, a lace of rosettes wreathe a maiden’s Read More …

(Poem) Ostara in the Key of Bach by Donna Snyder — Return to Mago E*Magazine

Repost from a few years back: person Donna Snyder, three poems

20200504_123846_Film4isacousticvia person Donna Snyder, three poems

Here is one of the three found at the link above:

Rabbit in the moon

Rabbit looks down
sees barren land, water infrequent.
The sun’s biting caress a death blow.
A cold too vicious to survive without cariño.

Ixchel sent me a lover
but chastity had already claimed me,
denied tactile pleasure and serendipity,
tongue pierced with cactus spine.

Mariposa sent me a lover,
but I wasn’t free to flit from ocotillo
to nopal on wings of pumpkin sun and indigo,
trapped in a box of death the color of plums and sky.

Colibri sent me a lover
who couldn’t shimmer in the air drinking sweet.
He plummeted from the sky like a fallen god,
his lungs became rock and his muscles stone.

Jaguar sent me a lover, too,
one kept from me by knives and chains.
He ran into the mountains and lives there still.
You can hear him scream in the starless night.

Eagle sent me a lover
with a tattooed arm that ends in fury,
dead lovers dancing to an unheard drum,
sugar skulls meant to celebrate life reek of death instead.

Rabbit looks down
into this indigo desert, sees my heart twitching
on a plate of lapis and jade, sees blood on the land,
but no succor. No solace. No water to wet my dying tongue.



Clay, not bone published in Original Resistance anthology

Clay, Not Bone by Donna Snyder

An Eden of unnecessary
women who worship Lilith,
the goddess of the other place,
where a woman can eat apples,
serpents twined around her arms
like jeweled bands. A matching crown
caresses a brimming head empty of guilt,
full of knowledge, her fist just as filled
as her head, with both autonomy and life.

An excerpt from the upcoming Girl God Anthology, Original Resistance: Reclaiming Lilith, Reclaiming Ourselves.