long, slow, fast
time's a funny creature, or maybe it's just me. (and a poem for ya.)
these past couple of months have been a ride. i’m sure you can relate. i don’t know anyone who feels otherwise. i’ll spare you (and me) the personal details.
been writing life behind the scenes in relative silence. revisiting old words scratched down and stitched together in a seemingly disparate tapestry that’s somewhat unique to my own experience, and somehow feels universal, too. i mean, it’s written from experience, and hopefully that’s how we all write, otherwise, i’m not sure what writing is. i guess what makes it unique is our own special spin on things. the way we color stories with our own idiosyncratic distortions (maybe that’s redundant).
there’s one poem i keep revisiting these days, one that i wrote a couple of years ago before starting healing school. i shared it recently in one of my classes and it was received well, and it was requested i share it here, so i’m feeling compelled to please folks in a way that also pleases me, but not in a give-yourself-away people-pleasing way.
i hope it does something for ya…
not one thing is fixed
all will move or be moved
even a stubborn mule must budge
(with or without a dangling carrot)
eventually
.
the heart beats you
a spiraling rush of all you’ve consumed
and all that slowly eats you
and your ancestors, too
.
life breathes you
there is no choice
surrender to the sucking in and blowing out
you’re a particle of it all
.
your skin is not your own
home to galaxies of dust motes housing parties
of beings you cannot see
and even they have children, and die
.
weather wears you
the wind is dressed in your cells
the rain pays tribute to all bodies with your tears
and your ancestors, too
.
gravity forces you
humbled to the dirt
we all must face
might as well let it
or better yet become it
.
not one thing is fixed
nor was it ever broken
all flows holy and is wholly you
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