22 Déc Bones carine roth
As many drops,
from so different stories,
gathering to create a new stream.
Learning from the water that runs across all life cycles,
all sources are One.
Trust
Mary Oliver's poem...
All that slips away
underfoot
escapes memory
dissolves there,
in these changing times, in this pivotal moment.
Dance, sing, celebrate.
"To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go..."
Fading loves
Faded friendships,
rope-worn.
New beginnings,
thwarted impulses.
Learning to know nothing,
in the bones.
Daring this unknown,
mysterious and capricious reality, malleable as never before.
Always
Never
The bones of the great ancestor
bleached by the sun.
Forever and a day,
looking at the Ocean
the starry sky
Hold his bones against me
tight tight
all against me
His bones that speak to mine
Feeling the migration
the depths
The powerful breath
Take a breath
And dive again
Curiosity on the surface
As if to gaze for a moment at this strange foreign world from the mainland...
Return to
once again, fluid.
To love,
again. One more time.
One more time to hear your voice, one more time a fire, a day, a moment, a song, deep, deep, deep.
thank you
deep-sea mammal
where all is well
Always
May i, we, you
bring Joy in this world
Open your hand
It's sand that slips through your fingers
But further away, bigger,
the planets align and everything
is
exactly
as it is.
Surrender
here
now
All waiting for you
Go and see my love
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
"In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver