"well," a poem by Jess Coffman

There is a deep dry well.
I squint my eyes, 
and peer with melancholy curiosity. 
But it's just as I'd expected...
no energy of living water,
too deep to see the bottom. 

There is a deep dry well,
hidden in a thriving forest of
redwood trees,
that have been threatened and 
and scorched 
by self-serving fires.
But still the giant mothers persist. 
They live in resilient silence. 
The fairy rings attesting to their 
loyalty and 
perseverance. 

There is a deep dry well,
that I always come back to 
after frolicking in the forest,
and attempting solace 
within the fairy rings.
I encircle its stoic stone mouth,
But my wishes never make 
the water appear. 

There is a deep dry well,
and one day after almost years,
of returning back, and finding 
nothing there,
I get brave enough 
to lower down a humble wooden bucket.

With flattened brow 
and anxious heart, 
I, with connected 
and cautious effort, 
lower the humble wooden bucket,
mouthing a prayer, 
for a trace of life at the bottom. 
My ears on high alert,
I finally hear my humble wooden bucket,
hit the bottom with a thud.
emptiness echoes upward,
and my little heart sinks to my heels. 
With distraught posture,
I pull what must feel like, 
a dead body,
up the stoic
stone well wall.
My biceps and back burn
as I labor with great sincerity 
hoping to birth, something alive.
hope, feeling sick.  
With heaving breath 
through gritted teeth, 
I examine my humble wooden bucket.
I am astonished to see
that the bottom is indeed wet!

I sip in a breath of life and love.
I close my eyes and smile,
involuntarily beginning to dance.
My mind at rest in pale periwinkle.
My arms back stroke through the air.
I skip in freedom.  
I pique within and around 
my friends, the fairy rings.
I leap to catch dandelion seeds, 
and chase the chipmunks, giggling.
But as emotion begins to recede, 
the silence becomes deafening.
my ears feel like two conch shells,
hearing an ocean that was never there. 
I reach upward to pull the joy 
back into my body. 
But the joy lifts up and away,
like a single red balloon. 
My eyes slowly open.
blackness. 

I'm alone. 
I've celebrated alone.
I've danced alone. 
The moonlight kisses
the back of my head,
and the stars lead me back
to my deep dry well.
I look down at the 
stoic stone mouth,
and see only blackness. 
I release a grieving sigh,
and living water ripples, 
catching my eye. 
disbelieving, 
I reach down tentatively.
I graze the top of the stoic stone mouth,
and with immense relief, 
soak up the wetness on my fingers.

There was a deep dry well, 
and it is filled now with my living water.
to drink, 
to take, 
to honor, 
to be reverent to, 
to be cleansed in,
to release in, 
to forget. 

JESS COFFMAN

These photos were taken while I was on a grand adventure discovering the Quarry Hill Botanical Gardens in Glen Ellen, CA. There were so many beautiful sights to see. 

I took a video of a natural spring, which I never seen before. 

It was several little springs, that eventually created and continues to fill this entire lake 

and all of the life within it. 

Don't ever assume that your little natural efforts, won't amount to a brilliant and fulfilling life. 

Peace, wellness and living water,

Your Jess

"gray chair" a poem by Jess Coffman

I sit in a gray chair,

It's simple and wooden.

The gray paint brush lines 

Run down the back, 

and flat along the seat. 

My jowls are sunken,

my lips over to the side

I bite the inside of my cheek

in a Picasso kiss. 

My forehead's relaxed,

My eyes, glint with drowning brightness, 

that dim with passing shadows. 

My knees buttoned up,
obscuring my lady bits from within my dress. 
my toes turned in toward one another.

My elbows rest on my thighs,

and one hand bares the weight 

of my heavy perspective at the moment. 

I can't take my eyes off of the lavender daisy on the shelf.

The center so brightly yellow,

The petals, vibrant and soft in color at the same time.

Regal, but in an unassuming way. 

So graceful, so delicate.

Alone and tilting slightly left, 

in my pale pink glass vase. 

She is at first so proud,

Thrilled at her chance to

fulfill her potential. 

Not aware that she is no longer

connected to the ground.

That the sun which she once

stretched so tall to lift her face to,

is nothing like the cool and aloof 

LED light above her,

in the ceiling. 

She has no idea, that she has been cut,

That she will never grow again.

She is heading ultimately to the composte bin,

If she's lucky. 

She would probably prefer that to the regular trash,

if she had a choice. 

She has no idea, that she is already dead. 

Though as her posture and over all mood begin to dip,

She becomes aware that it gets significantly harder, 

not to bow her haloed head. 

I sit there, in the gray painted chair,

knees buttoned together, head cocked to the side.

Sadly watching as the tenacious and youthful daisy,

ages so rapidly, 

Her head becoming heavier and heavier,

as her awareness increases slowly,

lower and lower. 

I could tell, the moment that she realized

that she was in fact dying.  

That she had been dead all along.

She really gave in to gravity then. 

Her stem curling up and in, 

Her last effort toward life was to lean, 

In the direction of the window, 

Where some weak sunbeams 

would shine in, a little before noon.

I have always loved flowers. 

When I was a little girl, lavender daisies
were my favorite. 

I had bought this single daisy from a bodega,

put it in my only pale pink glass vase,

with the hope that it would brighten my mood. 

But instead it only made me incredibly melancholy.

Flowers, being one of God's most pure, varied and highly stunted creations.

They are constantly being taken from their natural environment. 

They are plucked from growth, 

Removed from the soil and sun that feeds them.

Then admired for their smell and beauty,

fingered, picked and eventually die a slow death,

In the homes of those who never fully internalize 

their beauty and sacrifice. 

I finally consider leaving my post, 

Feeling as though I properly 

experienced the life and death process 

of my lovely lavender friend. 

I chose her. 

I appreciated her beauty for days, in mirthless repose.

And I observed as she gave up, and died. 

In shallow grief, 

I stood up, leaving the gray chair.

I walked heel to toe,

over to my defeated and gorgeous friend. 

With calculated care, 

I pulled her body from the pale pink glass vase,

I smelled her moldy stem,

Kissed her almost crispy petals,

and contemplated how to best honor her life. 

A man may have promptly thrown her out in her decayed state,

And gone out immediately to buy a fake one. 

But I chose neither to keep her pressed in a bookmark,

or let her decompose with the egg shells and used condoms. 

I said a prayer and lowered her into the sink,

Down into the garbage disposal.

And I couldn't even muster up a single tear,

as I flipped on the switch and heard her body,

get ripped apart repeatedly 

by the shining and murderous metal. 

JESS COFFMAN

Caffeinated, Processing and Fine,

Your Jess

"all bright" a poem by Jess Coffman

She enlivens the room,
With a flash of her smile.
She hugs your whole being,
She discovers your good.
She laughs under beanies,
She cries everyday,
Her glassy eyes see you,
and beg you to stay.

She dances on toes,
Meant to swim in the sea.
Her soul is wide open,
Her love's given free.
She's heaven's soft kiss,
and Gaia's pure gold,
She'll give you her life,
And her hand to hold.

But those eyes never lie,
and her words spill like tears,
When her faith is dried out in the sun.
Though her legs are like roots,
And her voice like a flute,
She can't see herself as "the one."

Light offers light,
in the hopes that she might,
See her worth, as a beacon of love.
But she gives herself up,
Sacrificing her cup,
Clipping the wings of a dove.

She envisions a world,
plugged into peace.
She shows up each morning,
Attempting hope.
She offers her stories,
She trusts in the path,
She faces the battle,
Easing the wrath.

She receives, what she gifts,
Tiny slivers of God,
She's grateful for each,
then releases.
She sprinkles them over
The heads of the needing,
Truth scattered,
In millions of pieces.

But those eyes never lie,
and her words spill like tears,
When her faith is dried out in the sun.
Though her legs are like roots,
And her voice like a flute,
She can't see herself as "the one."

Light offers light,
in the hopes that she might,
See her worth, as a beacon of love.
But she gives herself up,
Sacrificing her cup,
Clipping the wings of a dove.

She'll help you see life,
As an endless bounty,
An abundance of beauty and rest.
She's never resolved,
She lives by the call,
She'll break herself, doing her best.

She takes every challenge,
She'd save any stranger,
Her beauty is lasting and fair.
I pray that someday, she would thrive
In her glow, and would remain
Forever aware.

She's radiant love,
She can fly if she wants,
Her heart reformed and relieved,
She's heaven on earth, a channel for good
She is All,
If she only believed.

JESS COFFMAN

"all bright" is inspired by and dedicated to my beautiful soul sister Alicia Albright. I have had the immense privilege of getting to know her, be lit up by her, listen to her, learn from her, be supported by her, be super weird with her, dance alongside her and love her. 

She is one of the best humans I know, and quickly has become one of my favorite people. 

Let's be real dear, you're one of everyone's favorite people. 

Peace, Light and Sisterhood,

Your Jess

"echoes of gold" a poem by Jess Coffman

The rooster calls,
My body's awake,
It's still and it's clenching,
Building to break.

The woodpeckers peck,
at the chest in my chest,
keeping the gold,
locked safe 'neath my breast.

Breath, sipped and shallow,
that surrenders to sighs,
that surrender goodbyes,
amidst weakening thighs.

I close my eyes softly,
accepting the gift,
As time watches wittingly,
"the present is swift."

Eyes seeping ocean,
Blue angels await,
Tension surmounting...
it quakes,
then abates.

Energy swirls,
golden flecks in the calm,
It blesses then settles,
as we lay palm to palm.

The silence is smooth,
soaked with mercy and peace,
We pull in so tightly,
And with awareness, release.

Each moment heavy,
like a single tear,
filling with grace,
dropping to disappear.

The breeze exhales,
cherishing my face,
it reminds me that fate
has a friendly embrace.

The woodpecker stops,
when my chest opens bare,
and a single gold coin,
floats to spin in the air.

I watch as the coin,
descends to our hands,
I let go in our grip,
So it properly lands.

I smile, as your fingers enwrap
'round my treasure.
Forever to keep,
of this moment of pleasure.

The look in your eyes,
whispers words with no voice,
They grant me the promise,
to honor this choice.

The rumble of bliss,
echoes across our hearts,
As wholeness concedes,
so the future can start.

JESS COFFMAN

"the voice of providence" a poem by Jess Coffman

Arms open wide,
Fingers splayed with white energy shooting from the tips. 
Choking hesitation,
Knees buckled, with eyes open wide.

"Don't look down," my heart whispers to myself.
"Don't do this at all" or "Leap into your Life!"
my heart,
my fearless guide. 
Though, not always the clearest or wisest guide.
She has led to the edge before.
Though I've never felt quite like this.
So, I'm contemplating the idea, 
that she may be getting wiser. 
Though my soul, I know to be the most wise.
Listening to my soul's voice, 
as opposed to my heart, 
is exposing itself to be, 
my most profound adult challenge. 

I inch to the edge, 
And of course I look down to the immense beauty below. 
I'm learning to stop and take in my choices,
Instead of flinging myself off the cliff of possibility.
Openness I do well, it may be one of my best qualities. 
But an open heart, even if its strong, 
Shatters at the bottom of the ravine,
If thrown with uninhibited force,
and without proper buoyant protection. 

My heart says "Leap!" "Go!" "Do It!" 
But my soul says "wait." "be cautious." "be aware."
The voices compete for my attention. 
And because I've listened to my heart over soul,
over and over again in my life, 
My heart voice is much louder. 

I close my eyes softly,
seeing the light behind my eyelids.
I feel the silent gravity of the chasm below. 
It neither calls to me or rejects me.
It just waits, with enormous beauty and space. 
Timeless. 
I'm ready to jump into its depth,
And fly-dance all the way down,
Painting the air, with my love.
All of my vibrant colors firing out of me,
and splattering on rocks and trees, and animals. 
The muted colors ooze out, becoming ribbons  
that twirl and stay near to me. 
New colors are created, and I'm high-delighted.
Everything I am, exploding and trickling out
at the same time, and I feel so alive as I fall. 
My chest squeezes itself in an excited hug. 

The weight of the colors and the numerous amount of ribbons,
entangle to form a hammock of safety for the way down.
And I'm safe in this parachute of peace. 
I slow down immensely, and tiptoe, then collapse into the hammock. 
Legs open, one over the edge, arms outstretched.
I rock gently side to side.
I take in the scent of the earth,
and the sound of the woodpeckers and hummingbird wings. 
My heart beats slowly, my mind relieved, surprised, peaceful. 
My soul gleams. 
The bees smile. 
I land so softly in the ravine, resting upon the colors of my life. 
My hammock becomes a boat, and I float calmly
on these cleansing waters. 
My heart and soul, at peace. 
In alignment.
Speaking the same words,
And I don't have to choose, 
I am. 

When I open my eyes, my vision beautiful and clear. 
I take stock of my body, and feel the wind as it pushes me back. 
I feel the weight of the air in my lungs, and my body on my feet.
I step back from the edge,
waiting for the voice of my soul to speak. 
I am listening.
I am aware. 
It is silent, but I am patient. 

JESS COFFMAN

Peace, hope and stillness,

Your Jess

"Kaleidoscope," a poem by Jess Coffman

My memories of you are like a kaleidoscope of joy in my mind.
Each new shift and shape, 
revealing a different face of God's artistry. 
His beautiful creation and hope for love, manifesting in each face.

My love for you is unlike anything I have ever known.
I have found my pack. The lone wolf can rest.

Even in my misgivings, you loved me.  

Even when I was humbled, I was not forgotten.

This family produced food for the spirit, that protected us, 
and kept us warm.

And We did It.
We loved the way we always feared that we would,
The way we always wanted to.
And now that It's done, 
It cannot be undone or replaced.
It will always be. 
It will always be. 
Transcendent love stretches beyond what we can perceive.

Thank-you for this love that is as mystifying as magic.
Accept that there are no tricks.
No illusions. 
Living love energy, that doesn't burn out with the distance. 
It listens on the wind, searching for another heart that needs fulfilling.

Thank-you for the blaze. 
Thank-you for best lived days.
Thank-you for reminding me that the whole is always stronger than the lone one,
that love can be unconditional if we choose it,
that we must hold loosely to love, and its okay if we lose it.

I am here, friends.
When your torch begins to flicker and give out with time,
You can always take of my light. 
I will give it away freely, and trust well when it's in your hands,
As I've entrusted you with my body and dreams.

Ignite yourself, so that you can enliven others. 
Then our collective lights, will create a string of brilliance 
to decorate this house, that we created as a haven.
Let us use our light to decorate darkness, if we cannot overtake darkness itself.

I hope you felt my love as much. 
I hope the purity of my intentions was clearer than anything. 
The intention to love you, uphold you, let you dazzle in my hands, as I trusted in your arms.

JESS COFFMAN

This is the final poem of three, that came out of a free write that I did, after my previous performance contract ended with Transcendence Theatre company. I am so grateful for each and every face that contributes to the the kaleidoscope of joy in my mind, when I think about that cast and crew of people. I have never had so many pieces of writing come out of me, that is inspired by a group of friends. It has been such a gift to have had this experience and then get to write about it. So much of my work has been about a romantic love for an individual or a spiritual love for God, but I've never quite had this influence by a group of friends before. It has been fulfilling and exciting. Thank-you my friends.

Peace, the pack and light,

Your Jess

I took this selfie within the "Wishing Garden" at Cornerstone Winery in Sonoma, CA. Each piece of ribbon had a wish written on it, from different people who had visited the garden. 

It was stunning, being surrounded by so many strangers' hopes and dreams. 

It took my breath away.

Some of these strangers wrote very personal things, and I could relate to them all.  

It was one of those moments that made me feel so connected to other human beings, because we all want the same basic things out of life.  

We all want good physical health for ourselves and loved ones, happy and loving relationships, freedom to explore who we are and the certainty of knowing that our individual lives have meaning and worth.

If you can...go to the Wishing Garden. It the best place. 

"Loving Fire" a poem by Jess Coffman

We huddled around the fire of our collective sparks, 
And marveled at the glow of it all.
Not one light shining brighter than the blaze of the whole, 
But each flame unique in its own grace and fury.

Our fire devoured goodness.
We fed it with the kindling of kindness, 
embraces and words of praise and mercy. 
We could feel as a whole, 
when our blaze was dimmed by sadness, 
And a few would rush to the individual, 
to stoke him back to brilliance, with loving fire.
Our love then became so abundant, 
and the fire so ablaze and ravishing, 
That we had to give it away.
A little bit at a time, 
to those needing a torch in the night.

They took of us, and lit themselves up with it, 
Not even quite knowing what it was, 
or what was happening to them.
The pure soul fire of joy, ignited and elating their being.
And we waved ecstatically goodbye, as they took the gift away, 
To light up their own individual existences. 

I watched you with pride as you lifted up your hands, 
And sang out your soul each night.
A dancing spark floated from out of your mouth and hands, 
into the hot pink sky, and all the way up to the stars.
I visualized you as that spark, living among the planets.
Waiting for the right time,
when a weak-hearted stranger, 
will look to the heavens for direction and hope. 
And just as she is about to cast her eyes downward in devastation, 
You will make of yourself a shooting star. 
And her heart will leap in her chest, 
and her hope will be resurrected as she wishes for joy. 
And her dreams will be restored, even just for a moment.

And you gave that to her.
And that is why I love you.

Even when I can't behold you,
I know you are shining.
Your spark will show up in my darkest moments, 
As a torch memory, to guide my path leading to
true love, true joy, true hope and true friendship.

JESS COFFMAN

"Loving Fire," is the second poem that was inspired by and I would like to dedicate to my glorious friends and teammates of the show "Dance The Night Away," with Transcendence Theatre Company. I'm honored and in awe of your beauty. These photos are all of incredibly rich moments that I shared with these friends. Moments of laughter, silliness, sharing, courage, aligning, opening and love. Thank-you for lighting me up with emotion, inspired words, praise and ultimately hope for the unconditional love that we all truly desire. Thank-you for truly seeing me. 

Bar Chickens, Jumping for Joy and Leaping for Love,

Your Jess