All My Relations

I am deep in the now

when her cries pull me

into the middle of the road.

“Where are my children?”

They were warned yet they came

so they’re separate, safe

in cells, so safe. She stands

on the black pavement

her stance a brave flag.

Alone. “Where are my sisters?”

It’s a mystery.

The shadow of an eagle falls

across our faces, and we peer

too late into the sky. Missing

without a trace. I grab big

fistfuls of space

my gift as she is calling,

“My brothers, where are my

brothers?” Locked in solitary

with cruelty inked into their souls.

But this is the law.

From my open hands

the now

fog rising from the lake

on a cool autumn morning.

“Where are my elders?”

In tiny rooms where they can’t

fall, don’t worry so.

A strong vine pushes through

the cracks. There are calls

from the trees in languages

long lost.  Roots paved over

push and shift beneath our shuffle.

“Where are my neighbors?”

Cowering from the bomb, bomb, bombs

or bombarded by our virtual cries,

numb, disconnected, blinded

to the love guides.

I open my heart wide

the only place to offer

relational space our chance

to dance with time and

uncover the raw connections

feeling flayed at this demand

to reclaim our forgotten family.

 

Inspired by interrelationship

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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