I wrote this poem nearly two years ago.  I wrote it in almost intuitive reflection.  I wrote it with quite a calm mind and calm resolved heart.  The time that followed the composition of this poem was a time of great upheaval and pain and a grave acting out of my heart against calm.  But reading over it again, I think it’s important to recognize that when you feel resolve it is for a reason. And that in a way, it may be a prediction of what can happen if you resolve to take leaps of faith in the face of fear and uncertainty.

Moss on an ancient rock

that the peasant knows by heart

Eyes’ fingertips know it’s speckled sprawl,

like cheeks’ skin

knows warm drag and scratch

of green wool sweater…

One of those things

like the smell of the air

or,

the lift of a hillside

Intuitive changes in geography,

land shifts plains lift to bluff

flat and brown crawl to speckled lush

and,

a thick mess tightly woven beneath

peasant’s feet,

of leaves and vines and snapping

branches

pliant soft and strong….

And effortless fibers,

weightless and sure about the shoulders bundle in…

Peasant makes way to the rock,

to pass it by and to know…. from so many years before…

Climb,

and rise to namaste hands….

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