When will we ever wake up?
Destined to sit in our own
Clamoring for our own redemption.
Such an apocalyptic culture;
Caught in the vortex of absolute endings.
Innocence gifted back to us only when
We’ve given ourselves over to our fears-anxieties
Clouds down around our ankles.
Damp and gray wrapped in our own bodies and raingear.
The long calendar of the Mayans,
Destined to start another
Solar cycle. Hooray, another chance.
Sitting still, somehow trusting the current,
Open to an unmoored boat floating downstream –
Deadlines, schedules, appointments,
A world with constant demand.
Breaks my heart, over and over.
The faces of small children lost to a future.
Seeing the open innocence of my three grandchildren.
Wondering what pain those Connecticut families must feel.
This sitting here; heroically –
Loving the small voice underneath.
Deep below the obvious.
Some sanity reconnected – wisdom found.
Dissecting the personal over and over, to nausea.
Slowly stepping back- separating -content from the
Vast space. Relaxing in all the small spaces.
The sky has no limits.
Somehow knowing the heart understands.
All separateness was untrue.
Welcoming us to the new paradigm.
Wisdom with compassion flying off into the future.
The joy can be catching… …Blessings