The little centre spins,
sometimes whirling around
like a drunken duck.
Spirals turn inwards
drilling into depths
in order to find the
healing of peaceful waters.
What shall I do with the rest of my little life?
It elludes me –
frustrates the juices in my belly
and keeps me in the stench of struggle.
Am I STILL stuck in the birth canal?
Perhaps the creative seeds need a voice,
finally vibrating them out into the field of life.
Screaming is not very beautiful
but sometimes it is the only embodied voice available
when the fiscal appears more essential than the essence of soul.
Sometimes it’s like being alone,
feeling the mixed nature of that blessing.
Your attention is in staying balanced enough
to make it through and then,
the calm of nature becomes stirred up and fired
by elemental forces….
Do you not know that when you look to the pitted ground
to preserve your footing, you may not see
through the blow of your wild and windswept hair,
others, coming towards you on the same path?
To look into each other’s soul-filled eyes,
we must first look up and breathe
…… in order to see.