poetry by Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

Give me a story

with a gorgeous

ebbing shoreline

a few green fields

a modest house

a garden and

enduring love

not the

Hollywood heat

that could

burn a village

down but a

love steadfast

faithful

aware

of its own

good fortune

love that is a

lamp unto

itself

trusting willing

longed for

and held

an inner ember

glowing

triumphant

in its knowing

told and retold

perhaps simply

offered given

received and

understood.

~Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

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Sometimes A Kiss Can Do That:

unhinge a rusted gate

to let the moonlight in;

send rain to a parched field,

to play the dust like a drum;

release a hollow ache;

warm a stubborn chill;

build a bridge, a raft,

a momentary trust.

Sometimes, through a kiss

we open

to the infinite world

that holds us.

I’m not saying all the time,

but sometimes.

And sometimes

this is enough.

~Ingrid

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I love how Winter takes me
in its cool white arms, and
holds me in a seduction
of silence and elation;
full emptiness hangs in the air
after a night of heavy snow:
the breath of morning comes
a promise, or desire.
And I open as if haunted
for this deep and rich receiving,
inviting the seeds of darkness
to enter the mud of my womb
for a time of fertile waiting
I can not push or name, until
flows a spring of emergence,
celebration, birth, or fire.
Sometimes after months it flows.
Sometimes after one hot prayer.

~Ingrid Goff-Maidoff

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