What We Carry

What happens when I become softer or warmer or slower when I feel myself?~Thomas Huebl

Two hawks kite and spiral through
the mating skies, summon me
solitary suburban witness with new-made
eyes and the intention to be precise.

My charade ingrained habit learned
with Peter Rabbit, hare-brained
beliefs I trust with my life.
What a gift to the world when

I examine my burdens unnamed
I’ve ignored to declaim
global trauma. Summon
a shaman. These hawks suffice.

Tell me why do I
combine all my unmet moments
to project on the wide screen?
My routine battle a smokescreen

bypass my contribution,
I demand absolution but
I cannot be vulnerable,
take risks in love. I hover above

can’t even breathe,
spinning in the whirlwind
threats of a pandemic,
old structures collapse endemic

to the separation myth. How
can I give myself now
what I never received?
Reality misperceived.

I call like an urgent raptor
dare to name these shadows.
In our connected place,
I hug myself in quiet space

a warm regard, a love embrace.
Root and ground like a great
tree–and touch so delicately
pain I hold yet cannot free.

My healing song invites
the places I’ve condemned
to simply be a hymn
resonating I bring my darkness to the light

bring all of me. The beings calling
from the skies here now the key
I finally heed. Witness my fear
with me? All you have is mine, I finally see.

 

Featured image of Cooper’s hawk credit.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

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

3 thoughts on “What We Carry”

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