A late afternoon beam
Trickles through the canopy
Glowing redwood remains
Hush splintered in our wake
You stop and listen
To the leaves, falling
And silence, unfamiliar
Smiles between us
.
Further into the canyon
Of waiting fern-graced water trails
Jaws wiggling, diaphragms dancing
You ask me to go deeper
.
The space I land is remarkable
With these wounds, this heart
And the leaves, they fall
Your depths emerging, extending
And then silence, smiling, returns
.
I hold myself
And my spirals
Re-storying grand illusions
Into beauty and hope
But somehow, in this reflection
With the leaves falling all around you
I hear myself, in new ways
.
Many years on the mountain
Conversing with spider and brook
I’ve forgotten the medicine
Of humans
I put my heart
Beating, pulsing, a beacon
Out in between these bodies
And oddly, it’s held
Invisible webbing emerging from two
Deep waters, much solitude
And a bubbling wisdom of Nothingness
I step closer
Into the spiral core
And feel
.
Perhaps, this heart ponders
It is possible
Two humans
Can heal
As the leaves fall
As the world crumbles
As the core of ourselves and all reality
Is pierced, composted, rearranged
Perhaps, this heart, laughing
Watches, waiting
As I manage to step closer
Into its beating, pulsing
Knowing
Of what’s been true
All along
.
Letting Go 