Sadness circles, surrounds,
settling into slow song,
sinking into sudden, slippery silence.
like a sunflower in a manicured park,
sprouting satellite blooms each time they try to chop it down.
Underneath fancy soils and fertilizers lies the seed, the roots,
screaming, “Grow! Become your sunflower destiny”
even if the plant is trimmed or transplanted.
My seed, my wild kernel, screams to write, to sing, to laugh
until I start blooming again,
start growing with a stubborn rebellion those flowers
that nobody wants to ruin the perfect landscapes
they’ve envisioned for my life.
And it feels so good to grow, to stretch,
to reach toward the sun,
to dance with the wild wind,
and to store that ecstasy deep within
that simple seed, those thirsty roots,
retaining my essence even when
they storm the field with machetes.
I open to the day, a cup waiting to fill and be filled.
I pray for kindness and light, with keen eyes to recognize them.
I open to teaching, in any form, and I promise to absorb each lesson.
I pray for awareness and awakening, with able hands to fulfill their commands.
I open to life and I pray for the courage to live it.
If you step out of your thoughts for a moment
and look closely as the darkness yawns
and stretches into morning,
its pink whisper growing into an orange roar,
you will see another world.
Clouds become sturdy canyon walls
and rugged mountains,
surrounding sky-colored rivers and lakes.
Envy the birds who cross back and forth
with each flap of their wings,
you would be in that other world,
how it would feel
to swim in the sky and climb around clouds,
would make you want to come back.
to this world you know now.