February 3, 2020

pelican

whenever you see a lack,
a crack in the world,
a nest full of clamouring beaks
open in hunger,
you have to find your feathers
you have to grow a beak yourself.
you have to feed those nestlings
somehow, you, yourself,
even if it means you peck
with borrowed beak
at your own sore chest
and feed them your life-blood,
because that is what being alive means.
we are called to care
unstintingly for all in need,
not just our own,
those we know
or resemble most.
we have to be ready to help
without hesitation,
no holding back,
like mothers who pour out
their life into their children
that they may live and thrive and shine.
to allay hunger is holy,
the holiest of impulses,
to pull down what divides,
quench the fires that threaten,
patch, mend, give, feed,
hold, help, heal,
restore, repair,
and love.
anything less
is a betrayal of life.
only when we see in the mirror
a shifting light-dark skin,
fur-scales-feathers-hair,
root and leaf,
rain and wind,
only then do we see truly
and know ourselves
myriad, both less and greater
than we thought,
expanding into wholeness,
hearts breaking into flight
as we find our way home
together.











7 comments:

  1. Ah, that's so beautiful. 🖤🖤🖤

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  2. thank you for reading!

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  3. Thankyou for this beautiful poem. And so beautifully time. I read this on a morning when I most need to be reminded, that this is what I hold to be true. That this is my own deepest sense of purpose. That there are many of us who feel this way - who patch and mend, feed, care, heal, love. The beauty and truth in this is a wholehearted trust in life and the giving.

    I want to read this again and again, beautiful you. xx

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    Replies
    1. and see how many times I use the B word? heheh...because I can't not in this instance ; ) xxx

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    2. oh, thank you! it's not the best in terms of poetry craft, but it is sincere. the political situation here is so...insert string of profanities...depressing and worrying. the eco-grief is so heavy. this percolated up perhaps as a result.

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ashes, ashes...

some of the worst days come when we are nostalgic about something we never really had: true love, certainty, time... our memories hold false...