June 16, 2012
At this time of year the garden dries
And plants that used to thrive
Now blister in the sun.
Times change.
Who now can even trust the atmosphere?
Some say we shouldn't cling so much to earth.
And matter isn't all you think it's worth.
And what will ultimately carry on
Is in your heart. Perhaps it's true
But who knows where to start to make the shift?
I bear my inner patterns like tattoos.
It seems I can't erase or shake them loose.
I thought that freedom would get easier with age
But it's like the jar of honey in the cage
The monkey in me yanks but cannot free it.
If there's a door I need to quiet down to see it.
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mlambere
scupper
Dianne Schuch - Lindsey
Poor Woman
hilarad
skypixie0
Salon.com
Comments
You will learn that the jar of honey need not be withdrawn from the cage for you to reach through the bars, open it, and dip your finger in.
You will not mind that some will drip from your finger before your hand reaches your mouth for you will understand that many tiny creatures will find those drips and bless you for your generosity in sharing with them your bounty.
Peace be unto you, my poet friend.
;-)
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