When the rains came

she held her spear upright,

flooded the desert plain

and scattered the birds

scratching across the sky,

bleeding light

into the darkness of land.

When the rains came

she lay down in the mud

and drank in the light.

When the rains came

she suddenly realized

how thirsty she’d been.

When suffering comes our way, we often respond with a fight, for we see only despair even in the light.  Eventually, if we are wise, we learn to surrender to its message, lying down in the mud and drinking in whatever it has to give us.  Finally, one day, we look back on our suffering and see how we have transformed–indeed how we might even be mildly grateful for the suffering because we swim a deeper more meaningful river now.    

© Andrea Mathews 2015

Heavy Downpour


Wings fold, opening again like water.

Slipping into the blue serenity,

she winks into her next move.

She knows that shapeshifting

nuance that plows through you

like Tsunami—that knowing

the same as her flight,

certain without a single thing

to hold.

She pulls every observer

into her emptiness

until they are full of her flight.

Her snowfall visits again

late in the night


saying and saying

the nothing.



Transcendence is not a battle, not even an effort. It is the grace to say yes to the tsunami of moving from caterpillar to butterfly. But crawling isn’t a problem to be solved, it is just another emptiness–like flying.


© Andrea Mathews, 2014

blue butterfly

A Note from Grace

I saw you looking through

the red leaves, hot bark

to the lake of our chosen fate,

glancing backward at all the sad escapes.


Your mirror,

whimsical as dance,

tried you hard,

turned your forked tongue

to brown reaching root,

moist as a woman.


Dare I ask you

to become you?

To hold your hugeness

in my bones?


You are father, ancient as beginning

and you dare not hold your own.

Every single shred of you

leaves at each beginning.

Yet you hold your honor with such dignity,

as if it were wholeness itself.

And when I creep inside your veins

I am lost in the sweet smell,

the urgent taste,

the power of infinity in each

of your sacred cells.


Let me feel your


begin again.




If we only knew how big we really are!

© Andrea Mathews, 2014




Glowing plankton Doug Perrine

Comes home

Of her own,

Praying at the shore

Flirting with the wind

She opens

On the muscle of a moment.


Rippling across a river,

Whispering  the leaves,

She comes

On the muscle of a wing.


Bluing in renditions of her own

She simply reigns over all

On the muscle sky.

Coming home,

Singing home,

Bringing home home.


Drumming through the rhythm of breath, heart, hope, there is a natural bringing and coming home.  All we need do is surrender to it.

Photo by Doug Perrine, Barcroft Media


Copyright Andrea Mathews, 2014


I am seizure

of intent

moldering down the firmament,

casting seasons

from the net,

for the one iridescent



Would you take my soul?


I will let you.


I am pure gold,

gushing from the

mountainside of God.


Do you know me?


This is it. This. Here. Now. The riches of abundance are found by digging right under your feet.  Don’t miss it.

© Andrea Mathews 2014

2014-09-27 19.07.43