When I Am

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Day Twenty-four

 

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“When I am nineteen
I want to make a star.”
Sit in a redwood way up high
on eggs to hatch and
follow Blue wolf deep into forest,
fear running the opposite direction.

When I am forty-four
I want to sing an opera with coyote
ringed by sage and arroyos.
Dance flamenco at midnight on Madrid’s
cardinal peak under star breath.
And play my ukulele in summer pastures
by the Chukchi River, shepherded
by camels and shaman.

When I am ninety-seven
I will throw a silver line up to the moon
and tether her earthward.
I will rest in her curve perfectly held.
She will bear me to her quarters
and with a gentle nudge I will fly
forevermore.

When I am me,
now and forever, that’s how
it will be.

 

 

Author’s Note:

Prompt for today from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“Last but not least, our (optional) daily prompt. Today, I challenge you to write a poem of ekphrasis — that is, a poem inspired by a work of art. But I’d also like to challenge you to base your poem on a very particular kind of art – the marginalia of medieval manuscripts. Here you’ll find some characteristic images of rabbits hunting wolves, people sitting on nests of eggs, dogs studiously reading books, and birds wearing snail shells. What can I say? It must have gotten quite boring copying out manuscripts all day, so the monks made their own fun. Hopefully, the detritus of their daydreams will inspire you as well!”

Special thanks to 7-year-old Romanieo Golphin Jr. who, “When I am nineteen, I want to make a star.”

Remember

When the grackles camegrackles
moon was complete
she shone full and luscious
with promise
and grackles filled themselves
full emptying the feeder
even the lost bits tucked
between pebbles and mulch

And season changed
coyote strode across my path
in morning sun
dipping into bushes and rushes
lining the creek
covering his route
hiding his purpose

I swept away spider web
entangled with yellow leaves
and twigs loosened in
fall’s first wind,
the portal closed, lost
to the chill of change

In balance of night and day
I reach to you beyond
the milky way where we
sit on edge, a simple swash
of light compared to
your dazzling beam

With your healing
I rise with those who
walk in One light, who
speak with One voice, who
dance in One joy with you.

.

.

.

Author’s Note:

Seasons change. As do we.

The Autumnal Equinox revealed an opening to me. It seems that in this equal stance, balancing between dark and light, it is possible to see with more clarity while trying not to fall completely into either dark or light.

As I move into longer nights and colder air, of sleeping insects and sluggish crawly creatures who understand this rhythm, a rhythm I have forgotten, I find myself beginning to remember.

It is about remembering. It is nothing new to find or discover. It has always been a part of me.

I welcome this insight, this peace of mind.

As the mystic Julian of Norwich shared in her thirteenth showing – but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

And I believe if all manner of thing shall be well, then all IS well right now – in all manner of things.

Peace and Light,

Lex