The Life I Make

We make ropes with all aspects of the creation in this way.*~a San Bushman

An infant’s entrainment at arrival
roped in by our own fierce focused survival.
Enmeshed in the sticky web, strive to learn
the ways and words through which our passions burn

to freedom. But kept apart, breath controlled,
smiles masked, we settle into growing old.
Bones crepitate and presbyopia
grim labels our self-made dystopia

And then we die.

It’s all a lie.
I wake
and shake the remnants of my yoke. I break
the spell that I have woven and I claim
the power to live my vibrant selfsame

outside, barefoot and grounding, sounding tones
alert for birdsongs, tiny glinting stones
breezy caress and kiss of sun. Behind
the boxes and the screens unplugged unbind.

Inspired by: Apart, Crepitate, Presbyopia and Enmesh.

Full quote from What The Robin Knows, “If one day I see a small bird and recognize it, a thin thread will form between me and that bird. If I just see it and don’t really recognize it, there is no thin thread. If I go out tomorrow and see and recognize that same small bird again, the thread will thicken and strengthen just a little. Every time I see and recognize that bird, the thread strengthens. Eventually it will grow into a string, then a cord, and finally a rope. This is what it means to be a Bushman. We make ropes with all aspects of the creation in this way.

Featured image: The house finch sings sweet thank yous at my feeder.

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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