Do you believe in magic?
fairy wings that sparkle true,
birdsong that calls for my attention,
What turns the tide in the ocean,
and whispers "grow" to the trees'
invisible blossoms?
I refuse to look for evidence
of the contrary or a
second opinion.
Instead, I hold tight to this truth.
There is magic inside of me
Inside of you
The way in starts with the heart
the beat uniquely yours.
a jewel in your chest
sees the sparkle of another.
The way in starts with what inspires you,
where do you find your footing,
what uplifts and grounds you
deep like tree roots.
The answer can seem fleeing
and almost imperceivable
like a slight movement in the
corner of my eye
I saw it! I felt it.
I know it deep in my bones.
And I have the authority
to choose to see the magic
in a blossom, in a leaf,
in a snowflake, in a branch
now brittle but once full of life
coursing through sweet nectar.
A perch, a safe place to land.
We all want safety.
What brings you home
to your heart, to your own sense
of belonging?
There is magic there too
in your strands of hair
down to your toes
life courses through
your veins, your breath.
The magic of atoms and elements
made of stardust to make you.
Now
Do you believe in magic?
Tag: trees
Every Acorn A Promise
Every tight little bud
A promise.
A protective shell
from the harsh winter.
Even though the trees appear
to be shedding and letting go,
They are preparing
and abundantly so.
For the glorious spring
That has yet to come.
The Wisdom of Trees (Part 2)
The trees are my elders.
Their cyclical change tangible proof
that it’s okay to grow, shine, be
our true selves and let go.
It’s always been the natural order of things
And now they have shared their gilded wisdom.
It may look like trees are stuck
and don’t see so much.
I’ve learned it’s in the pause
that we receive all the gifts
this life has to offer.
[ Listen to this poem read by my friend Jess on her podcast The Pawtuxet General: https://www.pawtuxetgeneral.com/1885927/14088823-the-pawtuxet-general-episode-95 ]
LISTEN
The trees have Their own story to tell. Their roots run deep, Slow and powerful Beyond what my eyes can perceive. Listen To their wisdom. The ever silent witness Present to the environment, The changing seasons, The years come and gone, Steady and silent. Touch the tree bark. Its rough outer edge. Can I be a witness Without that hard exterior? Can I be vulnerable, Exposed to all the elements And be just as slow and powerful? Not hardened to the lessons But provide a shelter, To nest and give respite To the quiet integration; To take nourishment, To be held and to hold All who pass and take shelter? What emerges from the wisdom? What tales do I want to share? The trees have their own story to tell. If I get still and quiet, I can hear their wisdom.