dia #6

breathy/spaciousness
singing an arabic line, he sings to the chickens
they come running for their daily feed
being/spacious
holding space for all of it
including my own discomfort,
my own desire to control and force a way,
my own sense of entitlement to what doesn't belong to me
held & contained
and allowing it all to just be
because it is
and sometimes it just isn't.

liberate me

Warrior goddess, wrapped in blue,
she kneels on the mirror pond, frozen after a great snow storm.
The crone's mask of wisdom, age and ferocity sits stoic,
wilting in a winter sun, on top of her chiseled facade.
She is tired from so much running, eluding and chasing.
The violence of the hunt has worn her down,
to her knees, where with talon-sharp fingers she
gazes.  Reaching in, she seeks to free the
beautiful maiden, whose flowing locks of golden strands now float below the icy visage.
It is time - she desperately seeks freedom.
The full alignment of her whole Self.

(For you, RK...)


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