Yes, and…

The young kayakers circle the island,
eyeing the strange fishermen silently
casting. Ripples in the lake reach
me watching from the connected
shore. Who can say who belongs
here? I can no longer continue
my previous life.
It lies broken.
The lies broke my careful
façade. I find I must insert
the cedilla to ensure softness.
Sounds instruct.

Clueless kayakers approach,
bright orange flashing paddles
the quiet. The old fishers turn
their backs and plop their bait.
These kids, confused and
territorial, righteous and curious,
make their lake-round.
They do not wave to me,
seem oblivious to the swooping
plover. Splashing with a
settler’s proprietary ardor.

Words conduct a symphony
of meaning, impose order
on the chaos of now.
Assembling the anomalies,
escorting them—all squares
who can’t fit into roundness—
off the premises. And we of
circling natures feel the slam
into each corner, trying
to pretend we’re sound.

At last we heed the stream
of messages. The world rights
itself in our new vision.
Inclusive hearts open
as we step out of the
shards of shells containing
our un-grokked past. Ignoring the false
future beckoning madly,
we simply breathe
in this new place.
Yes, embracing now.

Inspired by:  Continue, Previous and Broken.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

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