12 Degrees Celcius, Mist and Fog

Dusty corners of my heart and home

steal my attention

as rust accumulates in my bones.

I am frozen.

Reviewing fears, recalculating risk.

Sitting in the question

What is it to dance in the face of death?

Death of all the worldly promises

The lives we were told to achieve

If only we worked hard enough.

Disillusioned

As if more achievement could bring about peace.

Death to the narratives, the neatly laid path of our lives.

What is it to dance in the faith of death?

Over and over again, beautiful one —

throw away the script

Throw away disgrace and shame.

Respect your ancestors and still listen to the small quiet voice of justice

The one that says, times are changing.

“I am open and accepting of change”

It is imperative that we honour what is already built, the miles our people walked in attempt to build a life wherein we don’t have to suffer

Their hearts were good, but their assumptions were flawed, and that’s okay

because our suffering is where the true gold lies.

It is the fuel of transformation .

The soul desires release from her sticky material bondage

Into the continuing of her evolution

May we all be willing and able to feel this force.

The quickening that rises inside us in conversation with the world.

Creative energy that moves and expresses best when we are un-attached to our personal identity stories, invested instead in something greater.

May we be willing to participate, to be accountable and to count

To count, at least on the stars

To bathe us in cycles of eternity

Trusting the ocean to wash away our tears

When humanity fails to make amends, with her neighbours

May we re-envision

That is, to-revise our own eyes

How we see the world

So that vision itself may transform and thereby create

from precious beholden gratitude

and the reverential action that follows.