Olive Grove, Crete |
Can you imagine
falling into the long tendrils and tangles
of the scruffy old wise woman’s hair?
She lives on the mountains tracing trails older than the oldest human,
routes traversed by the ancestors of the pussycat cleaning its paws across the room
and created by the single file marching of sedate beasts who live in the moment,
ignoring the one who hunts for its belly now rumbles replete,
its yawn smells of digestion, and
its movements echo the gentle fall of huge snowflakes drifting silent in the night.
Can you imagine
the tendrils and tangles of this world we’ve constructed
that we cannot seem to find our way out of,
for every tendril we push away becomes another one wrapping itself around an ankle,
tripping us until we fall into the tangles ahead and become invisible.
It’s one thing to disappear into the tangles of nature
because death there is quick and merciful.
But the tangles of the world of blinding light and rapid thoughts
across a circuit board that is constantly overloaded
is terrifying for in there death is slow and painful,
dragging one along behind for decades dripping bloody entrails and
severed limbs so that we are unable to climb out or
push ourselves in a different direction.
Ancient Olive Tree, Crete |
Can you imagine
being the tendrils untangled that seek out new lands,
new paths, the way less traveled, or a
tendril snipped and lifted high in the beak of a broad-winged friend
who carries one off to a place of solitude that is still unique
yet blessed by the sacred song of silence in one’s own head ...
silence so that we can hear the voices of insects, birds, trees,
sliding rocks, and thunder riding the lightening.
Can you imagine
being given the tendrils and tangles of the hawk’s nest
in which to curl up and rest,
or those of woodsy floor
where thousands of lives have been before,
have birthed and died within the tangles of roots that welcome us home without demands or judgment.
__________
Streaming free-write from the ClarityWorks prompt "tendrils and tangles."
Darla, you are so talented, poetic, intuitive. Most of all I'm grateful to witness the way Gaia moves through you, untangled so that each word marks a perfect spiral into the center of awareness and bliss.
ReplyDeleteSuch utterly enchanting imagery ... the echo of the gentle fall of snowflakes drifting ... blessed by the sacred song of silence ... reading this, I feel myself swaying to the rhythms of words and images.
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful response to the prompt -- magical!
ReplyDeleteThank you, ladies, for your kind and generous comments of appreciation! I love writing, and to know that someone enjoys what flows from my pen is icing on the cake. Blessings!
ReplyDeleteWondrous photos and writing! I can imagine how much you enjoyed visiting the olive trees in Crete. :)
ReplyDeleteDiane, I have to say, Crete is never far away these days ... :-)
Deleteoh dear Darla... this is truly magnificent, full of wisdom and compassion at the roots of the tangled tendrils.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, dear Laura ...
Delete