Handle With Care

We have burst from the shells
staring agog at blue sky
feeling sun and wind ruffle
our feathers. There are no words
dragged from the past
where once we nestled
cozily content in a slumber
no longer available.
We turn in our astounded delight
to urge our caged brothers
still below: peck free!
The opening is clear!
The peckish response: you’re
killing me. Leave me alone,
I’m eating my existence
all my energy devoted
to this dreadful chipping away
in the darkness. Cold disconnect
as everything I know tears away
and must be digested before
I can move.
Ah, my dear, in my delirious
joy and open question, I summon
all my compassion
hold the space
while you find the will
to fight through what blocks
your clear sight.

Inspired by Discover Prompts, Day 7: Below.

What Appears To Be

It is time to practice how to attune to the new reality that Gaia is preparing…See people awakening and walking their own paths towards the new.
The circle of humans that stand in the light of the new reality is larger and larger. Rejoice and give thanks.~Marko Pogačnik

In the ubiquity of fear and smear
of politics and media, oh,

we fall asleep standing right here,
declare we’re copacetic—cheer

thrilled as the festivities appear.
We forget that we are desperate

addicts, looking for a fix, oh,
we won’t call it that, hush, dear.

As Gaia makes this quantum leap
in her own evolution, the sphere

we are vibrates into light, oh,
breathe into us the words: all clear.

We’re fingers on the hand waving
into the mirror. We are love, oh,

look into our palm, life peer,
the lines are trails into the new.

The web we weave spinning, oh,
into the space appearing now.

Inspired by: Copacetic, Ubiquitous, DesperateFestivities and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, oh.  (The rules: Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing (typos can be fixed), and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.  And today it was sooooo hard not to edit.)

True Value

I am so tired of wording

while I wait for the world

to participate in the turnover

embracing the new narrative.

And then this precise

child on this exact

cold overcast day

solemnly offers a paintbrush

dripping purple.  Wordless, I

open my hand to change.

Inspired by: Turnover, Wait, Participate and World.

Ensō

I’m leaving this riparian

life with praising

poplars and twittering songbirds,

the shy dusk-creatures

and the long bullfrog-croak sunsets.

My guides here appear

like magical fairies

in beloved childhood tales. 

Right now a praying

mantis means mindfulness.

I heed her, soaking

up the shore, the banks swollen

from heavy persistence of rain.

Like an inspired brushstroke

or a song, my heart-walls disintegrated

in the trumpet call

of my grandson’s arrival.

Invited to follow him,

I see my fears

a Wile E. Coyote moment

suspending in midair

until realization hits

and I’m dropping

into the deepest chasm

where love lives 

waiting for my adventurous

spirit to emerge,

heart-strings twanging

in a new chord, one fluid

expressive stroke

resonating, moving me once again.

Inspired by: Riparian