Womb of Earth
What rests in darkness
rises from the womb of earth,
the seed of creation alive
crown first, arms softly folded,
determined to breathe and come forth
through the trials of becoming,
the promise born again and again.
***
By the Gravity of Grief
The rituals are small, unnoticed
crafted with fallen branches
and shells from the sea,
time allowed to stop
with animal reverence,
breathing in the air of new leaves,
warmth rising from the ground,
remembering all we’ve lost
as the desire to go forward
is slowed by the gravity of grief.
***
Carpet of Joy
As winter gives way
winds from the north shift,
the air begins to warm
and earth turns light brown
while the tiniest green shoots
rise like newborn hair
covering the land
with the color of awakening.
***
Pulsing with Wonder
Quiet and unmoving
the earth held peace
like a new born,
close and swaddled
with soft leaves,
listening to each breath
with desire only
for heartbeat,
the air so still
it seemed thick,
the sea laid down
in a slow ebb,
the birth awaited,
anticipated so long,
pulsing with wonder
in the green of new life.
Your choice of words has my imagination dancing with delight as the world wakes to a new day here in Australia.
…Here, too, in Oregon. A good title, too, as I hear the music of these movements.
Pulsing with wonder, honoring what’s lost with the exactly right moment of grief while borne up by the green rising. What a beautiful celebration!
Your poems just keeping getting better and better for me. Thanks
From this place of misfitting, breathing in the air of new leaves, is tonic.
Thank you, Don.
Having just completed a sweat lodge last evening I can relate.
I like your four musical movements as an organizing principle.