We tend a world of smoke and mirrors
that hold us back from the real.
So tenaciously we attend to personas through which
we will never meet the true self.
What parades as culture is a torture,
keeping us from sleep,
prodding us with tools of pain,
and unattainable ideals,
twisting our minds,
deceiving our bodies.
We are relentless in our chasing
of the bells and the whistles,
our heart beats pounding,
faltering, breaking,
as we keep the wheels turning,
grinding away at the soul,
the soul of the self,
the soul of the world,
the soul of the earth.
Bewildered,
in pain,
afraid.
All of us slaves in our way,
to a false and deceitful master.
Beneath it all the earth breathes,
deep and slow.
She unfurls the dawn mist
as the intricate design of a moth's wings,
flutter on my night dress,
to the serenade of water
falling through the sky,
collecting to slake our thirst
and draw up life.
She gives her gifts for free
and they actually nourish,
they are all we could ever need.
We must remember ourselves as her,
we must let her be enough again.
We must come to remember anew
the miracle that each of us are,
as we quake and tremble in our cells
at this miracle called life,
thrumming, resplendent
in the mere mundanity of our existing.
What might it mean to be generous,
with our breath,
our love,
our care,
our pleasure,
our embodied attendance,
our attuned listening.
Just to breathe and to hold,
to sing and to sustain,
to dance our barefooted rhythms
on the sacred ground.
To listen at the threshold
of Earth's eternal chorus of becoming.
To know ourselves inside
and to share that with each other.
Enough.
More, in fact,
than we could ever dream of wanting.
As though it is the eyes through which we see
that must evolve and eclipse,
so that they are able to behold
what has already been given.
May we break from the trance.
May we grow the eyes to see Her.
May we tend the heartgarden that can know
what it is we truly are.
Already given.
Turn from the smoke screen and slow.
Rip the shackles and fall deep,
deep, deep down,
into the arms
of our true mother.
Words and Image Copyright 2021
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