Run Beautiful To Your Own Birth
I will flee wildly like in a movie, past nature’s all
in one great green blur, looking for what is the
great cause of everything. I will be in chase of
wonder and what is always cracking open
on the other side of perception.
My growing heart needs to know what will
happen next, but my kind heart tells me to
stay still so I can listen. I’m hearing you.
Yes! I fall down in relief but before the warmth can
overtake me, I see something in the distance,
a figure, maybe, cloaked in light, so beautiful. I
don’t move toward her but my attention moves
there because it is easier there than here;
it is effortless to go there.
Before taking even one step in the shimmer of my
mind, the image falls away fast to a blue horizon
that swallows for good every dream that has ever
sparkled through our prophet-loving nights.
I want to call out, I’m on my way! and bound
across forests, rivers and the ocean to meet her,
even as I stand here in complete certainty that
that this has never happened, that it is dust,
however gold. I bend down to wait for
precious life to meet my searching heart.
And find Love. Sounds of humming, chirps and
murmurs in creature-perfect communion. A slow
movement calls out to me so I come closer, and
find a shell resting on a leaf that sways in the
small wind. Squiggling out of the shell is a new
life squirming and now taking little pauses to
rest. I’ve never watched a ladybug give birth
to herself, a universe coming into life in the
tiniest of world pockets. She has no pattern
yet, she is completely unmarked in orange
purity as she breaks free from her old
house and walks like she knows
the way it goes. And so she
goes, into the leaves’
folds, and so I
follow her,
pulsing,
here,
now.
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Editor: Renée Picard
Image: Jaci Lopes Dos Santos at Flickr
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