"A Letter," a poem by Jess Coffman

Her heart is weeping,
No thoughts are at rest. 
Though she's been blessed, 
Yes, she's been blessed. 
But a letter hangs 
heavily on her back,
Illuminating a trust attack. 

A body desired,
with humble breast,
She contemplates each earthly test.
She starves herself of any kiss,
Lonely steps towards heaven's bliss.

Her lips, though wanting
only speak
As timeless waters
fulfill the creek.
Their fingers dip in waters
refreshed.
She's been blessed,
Yes, she's been blessed. 

Open arms once delighted,
fall.
Spinning heart absorbs it all.
Her revealing path reveres the Sun. 
Never meeting the elusive "one."
Never exclusively one to keep.
Sterile body,
Lonely sleep.

Smiles set,
countenance collapses,
She tried to love greater than her needs.
But when careless words ripple far beyond,
Her purpose halts, while her joy bleeds.

She held herself when the night was warm.
Her every desire left unexpressed.
And never were her ears fulfilled.
But she's been blessed.
Yes, she's been blessed.

The crickets score the draw of eve,
She sips up breath, and sighs forlorn.
She mourns the undue letter placed,
that sends dishonor and reads disgrace. 

But never will she bow to guilt,
There will be no falling to her knees,
Anger makes the hurting blind,
And stings the innocent like vengeful bees. 

Stung and swollen, she stands still,
Swallowing the unjust pill,
She crossed no man, and blurred no vow,
Though she's wiser to the test now. 

She'll stay the course of solitude,
Loving purely with hands serving,
Which will ensure, she never endure
the shame of letters undeserving. 

JESS COFFMAN

"My Darlings," a poem by Jess Coffman

Your Music resounds within me, 

Swirling Lavender, pulsing Soul.

It transforms old faces into new, 

It buries roots,

building Harmony,

Making Whole. 

Your powerful voice thunders through me,

Sighs of longing, escape under the sun. 

You have melted the numbness,

Surrounding my heart.

And my heart you have expertly won. 

You are stunningly beautiful, under the lights.

Your magnificence is wild.

I catch your smile in the air, 

And it makes me giddy like a child. 

You helped me give a gift, on the wind.

We blew it out together like a wish.

We whispered love into their ears,

We offered a choice,

In the face of their fears.

We shook them with laugher, 

And moved them to tears. 

We offered them change,

In the face of their years. 

We have opened our arms to their hiding.

A “Welcome Home!”

Forever on our lips.

A Reawakening,

might be a souvenir,

Where the adventures are epic,

And the wine drips. 

There is always newness to discover,

Someone or something, to bring back to life.

With a pioneer’s heart you’ll uncover, 

A focused fluidity,

Imbibed in the pioneer’s strife. 

With shameless and fierce curiosity, 

We seek the rocks to build our foundation.

And with Spirits full of excitement, 

We nurtured a freeing love, and collaboration. 

To call you my friend is an Honor.

To be a Child with you, 

A Gift.

You’re forever written in my story,

However long, however swift. 

There is magic infused within our bones, 

Pure euphoria, beats with our blood.

We’ve transcended the likely story.

We’ve danced among trees,

And played in the mud. 

We’ve created happiness together,

Cause you have seen me, 

with Knowing eyes.

And with palms Overflowing with color,

You’ll paint over dreary goodbyes. 

I’ll let go of you, masterful and shining,

Cause we know with whom we belong.

And tomorrow, I’ll hum the sweet melody,

Of the hope we aroused with our song. 

JESS COFFMAN

"My Darlings," was written to honor some beautiful friends that I made while performing for Transcendence Theatre Company. The cast, crew and musicians that inspired this poem, were from our Fantastical Family Night show, that just ended last weekend. On our first day of rehearsal, our brave leader Amy Miller, perched on a wooden picnic bench, under knowing oak trees, and asked us all to tell the group why were were excited to work for the company. 

Most people said, something along the lines of "because I get to be with my tribe," or "the nature here is stunning," or "I need to recharge away from NYC, to remember why I love performing." Whatever the reason, people come to Sonoma to work for Transcendence, and they fall in love. They fall in love with other like-minded individuals, they fall in love with nature, they fall in love their craft, or they fall in love with themselves. The air is so clean, it's like food for the lungs, the wine is flowing and the generosity here from the community, is endless and inspiring. 

I know that I get to be the best version of myself here, that is the reason I am always excited to work for Transcendence. I get to keep the harmony within myself. The "mother wolf," inside gets to nurture, the child gets to explore and frolic and the growing artist gets to work. I am my most calm here, my most fed, my most actualized. 

Thank-you to everyone in my Fantastical Family Night cast, who help me be a fuller version of myself. It was so fun to play with you. I am honored by your love and talent. May you keep listening to your inner child, always. 

Peace, Treasures and Green Kazoos,

Your Jess 

"Suffocation," a poem by Jess Coffman

It's as though the air has been sucked out. 

vacuum sealed, without space for 

mistakes or creativity,

squeezed tight, without freedom 

or grace. 

Regret all over my face. 

But with determined eyes to be "right"

Having lost sight of the gratitude.

Lying flat, and suffocating

With a mask of resilience, 

I stay stuck. 

Fucked, by my own stubbornness

and self preservation.

I take a deep breath 

and blow the plastic protection 

surrounding me, 

away from my lips,

pushing air out and through 

what feels like an inflexible balloon. 

Labored breath, and with frustration,

I try with all of my will, to create 

a bubble of understanding.

It's so difficult, even though 

I want desperately for it to be easy.

Exhausted, I just stop.

almost without choice, 

I stop pushing.

I rest.

I close my eyes and give into the squeeze, 

but instead of feeling claustrophobic,

I allow my limbs wrapped 

around myself, to feel like a

full body hug. 

I relax into the tightness.

As my heart beat slows,

my breath is calm and shallow.

An inner warmth felt like the 

eye contact held with an infant, 

melts the imprisoning armor around me. 

As it falls, peeling away the impurities 

of my guilt and frustration,

I feel a birthing.

A chance at new choices,

a cleansed and free body.

When I open my eyes, 

he is 

still there,

looking fresh and new too.

Tentatively, we each 

take a step toward one another.

Recognizing the other's ready and 

listening spirit. 

With steady heart beats in alignment

we gracefully navigate,

through the summer wildflowers, to the 

Trees of Life. 

JESS COFFMAN

 Hello Dear Friend! 

Thank-you so much for reading "Suffocation." It was a poem I could help but write, after an argument I had the previous night, with someone I truly care about. Though we didn't end the conversation in anger, we also couldn't end it with a hug either, due to being in two separate places. When I woke in the morning, I felt as though I had an emotional hangover, which was a feeling I hadn't felt in a very long time, possibly never. So though I should have been focusing on learning new music at work, I split my attention and wrote at the same time. In my experience, when emotions meet inspiration, it is an unstoppable force that compels me to write, and I don't allow anything to prevent me from accomplishing the piece of work that is trying to be born. This is why I always carry around a journal, pen and phone, ready for when inspiration comes whispering in my ear and knocking on my heart. 

Peace, Whispers and Trees of Life, 

Your Jess

(P.S. The photo of the marble sculpture above was created by Belgian artist George Minne, in the late 1800's. The name of the sculpture is "Adolescent I," and is meant to depict the emotions and posture of self-protection and defiance, as well as shame and anguish. I was so uncomfortably moved by this sculpture, when I saw it at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. I feel like it is a perfect representation of the way that I felt during my emotional hangover. 

The photo of the beautiful sunnies, was taken at the Sonoma Ashram. As I was looking up at them, they seemed to look down on me with a curious and knowing presence. I loved it.)

"Mother Nature's Release," a poem by Jess Coffman

Beautiful Elise,
Beholding Nature's Release.
With raw Womanly hands,
She opens to Spirit's demands.

She releases every woe, to Receive,
Every gift of her grief.
And through a womb that's bereaved,
She Beholds her gifts of Belief.

She Believes in a life this is whole.
She cultivates growth with the seasons.
She sustains her body with goodness.
She doesn't wither with reasons. 

With Grace, she opens to healing.
With Honor, and reverence to time,
She judges not her own feelings,
She knows her process as "Mine."

A femininity pure and strong,
With a mind fastened to story,
She offers herself and her gift,
To be enveloped in Glory. 

Surrounded in Light she's Received,
Made out of Love, never alone.
Her curious heart never concedes,
As she nourishes the seeds of Home. 

On a morning soon, she'll smell,
The soft sweetness of a bulb's bloom, 
Her Joy of Creation swelled,
And the Mercy of Mother Nature's womb. 

JESS COFFMAN

This poem is dedicated to my Beautiful Elise. May your heart, soul and body, be renewed and refreshed. 

Peace, Space and Ease,

Your Jess

This bronze sculpture was created by Italian artist, Paolo Troubetzkoy in 1912, it is entitled "Dancer." The dancer being honored here is the famous Russian pianist and dancer, 

Countess Tamara Swirskaya. 

I love how Troubetzkoy was able to capture the femininity and playfulness, 

in Tamara's movement. 

This sculpture perfectly accompanies "Mother Nature's Release," because the artwork depicts to me, the dancer's freedom, release and reverence of her body to her unseen Creator, 

and the future unknown. 

"The Flow," a poem by Jess Coffman

A summer leaf calls to me, 
Falling...
Right before brushing the meager creek's head,
A satisfying illusion!
She becomes a yellow Butterfly!
Flitting up into abundant beauty,
Flirting with my inspiration.

The slightest breeze, fills my lungs,
carrying delicate messages of acceptance and validation.
In this moment,
I know.
I am exactly where I am meant to be.

Kindred Oaks,
loom in abiding mercy.
Their tender leaves
twinkle a dainty "hello."
My tender heart, speedily beats a "hello," right back.

The merry, unwary Butterfly bounces,
Uninhibited.
In all of her boundless
freedom,
Stretching and Flapping
and Soaring.

Yet choosing to stay,
Musing away,
in her beautiful creek home.
Gracing every wild mint,
mossy rock,
and rejoicing bird,
with Her Elegance.
She exists in that Oneness World of...
The Flow.
She thrives within it.

Climbing higher with exuberance.
Then Gliding, Sweeping and
Riding the breeze, in her
natural state of Joy.

Neither food, nor sex nor compliment,
could transport me into
The Flow
like I am in this moment,
with this boundless Butterfly,
and steady Sun on my back.

A smile is wide, in my Being.
And I'm Full.
Fulfilled like before,
When I was first invited into,
and dazzled by the majesty of
The Flow

Time stops.
I am beholding, adoringly,
the steadfast,
yet precarious and exhilarating wait,
for the next breathless moment.

I am for now,
simply an Observer of
The Flow
Though, some unknown and glorious day,
I will join it.
I will Be.
I will know...
The meditations of the wise rocks,
The romances between the leaves and the winds,
The secrets in the heart of the inspirited
Yellow Butterfly.
This will Be.
I will Be.

JESS COFFMAN

"Shadow," a poem by Jess Coffman

Long ago love...
how you still wound.
I have forgiven you,
but the pain of my
wasted youth remains.
Which,
does not allow me
to take a chance on anything,
that reveals even a sliver, of a shadow
of you.

I was unseen in those days.
silent and of little worth,
except for my wild outbursts
and bare skin.

His syllables,
legato loose tongue.
His ability to soil a sacred cloth
'round my waist.
Somehow the bitterness of you
has vanished,
You no longer leave
distaste.
But a warning lingers,
like a familiar scent, 
I can't place.
Dissimilarities trick me.
vanishing faith.

Again, my words hold no weight,
They could come and go of my lips.
I would be nothing of value,
If I were just a head, with no hips.

All is a well, All is a well.

It seems I've learned again.
My role as an open woman,
In the game of selfish men.

I'll play alone from now on,
It's always better when I do.
My arms open to the masses,
Without just one man to belong to.

If I gave myself to the whole world...
My Treasure, an equally traded gift.
My Soul a sacred space,
Never neglected or split.
My Feelings, always discreet,
would never be disregarded.
My Love a golden arrow,
Buried safe, could never be discarded.

Maybe then, I'd be truly contented,
Loving all, and never one.
I'd pray to the moon, amid smokey star shine.
Or bathe in the breath of a naked sun.

JESS COFFMAN

"Fire Breather," a poem by Jess Coffman

Her obsession with fire,
The warmth and the wet.
Heating Desire, a killing threat.
Whispering rains, Know the Truth.
Nature calls out,
She slips from the booth.

Her smile is weary, a tipsy calm.
The bullshit weakens, and can't go on.
Softer focus and mounting debt,
Knows no future...
Catching breath.

Heart on fire, hiding place,
Reaching up for Holy embrace,
Voices laugh, connecting with ease,
While she silently begs on her knees.

Enwrapped in rapture,
A wicked device,
Exposing frailty, confusing the nice.
All is well,
But she's loosing worth.
a spirit plays,
a spirit's birth.

In solitary confinement,
The melody cascades,
In solitary alignment,
Her memory fades.

She's safe from her sins,
In isolated well,
Closer to Heaven,
Closer to Hell.

This is life,
Lonely among Bliss.
Still, in the darkness,
a Quiet kiss.

Deep Expansion,
To soothe and protect,
No longer fearing,
Darkness deflect.

A Soul of devotion to
His Guiding Light,
An offering to all
on this raining night.

Green starts spinning
in frozen chest,
It melts the disgrace,
of the 'unwanted guest.'

A beat in her blood,
Moves her legs in the deep,
She rushes and springs,
No longer asleep.

In risky escape,
She dances her song,
The uncertainty grows,
And the courage to move on.
Tormented and hating,
And ashamed to say,
She loved him again another day.

JESS COFFMAN