Today I shall bury myself

Old Growth Ponderosa Pine


Something inside me has to die
I realize in the two AM blackness
for something new to be born
perhaps you know the feeling
you don’t know exactly what either are
what this passing and letting go of
or what this emerging and arriving might be
for you are living in the in-between times of a great unknown
yet you feel you are somehow living too small
for what your soul is asking of you
for the times you live in
for the tomorrow of your children
will not be the world drawn on today’s maps


Today I shall bury myself
deep into a cavity of waist-sized roots
where an old grandmother Spruce tree enters Earth
There I shall listen for the stories told in whispers
amongst and betwixt such ancient ones
the telling traveling down along the roots into the mycelium threads
that weave the worlds into a whole
with the primal wisdom of letting go of what no longer serves
while inviting and invoking the courageous vulnerabilities
of an open will and ears and mind and arms and heart


The maps in schoolbooks and on the walls
were drawn for a time of stability and established authority
and say nothing of a world in chaos and turning upside down
while the wild and old ones yet whisper
of an embodied cellular intelligence
gifted to Life’s first born as a seed planted deep within
and passed to all willing to feel and sense their way in the dark


listening for the song of your heart’s drumming that is your gift
within the great choir of life affirming love
so that like a pilgrim following an inner North Star
you follow a thread that feeds your soul
with that which brings you most alive
in a world dismissive of and starving
for the transforming intelligence and knowledge
as resides in the soil and decaying stumps and logs and forest litter
nourishing and giving rise to such towering magnificence—
old growth stories drawn into the heavens by the light of stars
and heard only by those intimate with the gravity of the night

resilient ponderosa

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