Everyday I live the mystery of this truth.
The blood rushing in my ears are the whispers of my ancestors.
They watch me frazzled under their careful watch.
Life inflames my joints and heart ruled by the ticking of a watch.
The cats and seedlings planted await the emergence of my truth.
I pray because one day I will be one of the ancestors.
Free the flow of my movement forward, dear ancestors.
So long have I bereaved my soul and fell from my own watch.
Everyday is a chance to fall into the rhythm of our truth,
Lean in our ancestorsʻ truth and reset that watch.
April 8, 2016.
Itʻs the 8th day of National Poetry Writing Month, a challenge my friend Cindy reminded me of the other day. The return to this blog is me working through my soul stagnation and life inflammation. Bits and pieces are starting to move, and I remember the parts of me that I used love. We all have muscle memory for parts we used in the past. Itʻs never to late to discover them again. I am true believer of this. I pray for this everyday, to chart my way to undiscovered lands never thought possible. More on this later. Sending love out to the universe.
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