Birth

Today’s poem for NaPoWriMo.

Birthdays are, for me, remembering mothers. They are the star of the day, are they not? Going through that climactic episode after 9 months of carrying and carrying and more carrying. I have a cousin who every year travels to spend his birthday with his mother. He said, she is the reason he has a birthday, so she’s the best person to celebrate it with. I agree.

Drought

.

The dry earth coughs up dust storms

While cattle scratch at the brownness,

Their tongues having forgotten

The sweetness of green grass.

 

But the sky is closed up like

a heart that has borne much pain,

And the clouds hold back the rain

As though in just retribution.

 

Would it be that the mewling of

slaughtered beasts and the gasps

of dying fish rose up from the earth

in pangs of collective wailing?

 

 

It could be that the heavens have

a thousand ears and a million eyes?

Maybe Nature communes with itself

In a language we have stopped hearing.

 

~~~

Australia has been experiencing drought for 6 years in a row. Cattle are dying and farmers are committing suicide.

 

The Dance

THE DANCE

I wake up to dancing dappled sunlight.

The sky has forgotten
last night’s thunderstorm.
But not the mother bird
whose nest has fallen.

Yet seeds will sprout at that spot
among the knitted twigs
and broken egg shells.

Life moves from form to form.

I only need to sit back and
watch the play of illusions.

Like the playful sunbeams
dancing gaily on my face.

Love said to me

by RUMI

Last night
I lost my grip on reality
and welcomed insanity.

Love
saw me and said,
I showed up.
Wipe you tears
and be silent.

I said, O Love
I am frightened,
but it’s not you.

Love said to me,
there is nothing that is not me.
be silent.

I will whisper secrets in your ear
just nod yes
and be silent.

~ Rumi