Rear View
It’s like I’m
squeezed into a box
I didn’t chose.
I get grief is something to surrender to
but this place remakes the very fabric
I’ve clung to since I was child
dreaming of music.
I’m a certain kind of creature.
Cut from the molds of bards and mistrals.
Troubadours.
Shining light in the shadows.
Sound medicine spreading wisdoms down the path through ancestral vibration which connect you.
Word smiths of culture we are your shamans and such
the healers, magicians and the muse but .
though I do this for my Soul but mostly I do this for truth.
I still get surprised that I’m surprised
at Life unfolding without my permission.
No hero jumping through my door. So much never comes to fruition even for the very best of Us.
And yet we still get right back up.
No control here.
Lessons made to grow me.
Making me face that sticky place I know well.
See, my heart’s still bent
from that last good beating.
She must have her own say.
Ignoring the brand new way new love waits for me
to show up completely.
But I am addicted to the tears.
Then I am suddenly groundless,
singing out into the silence
alone in my room
and these days without the freedom to be with all of You
seems to be burrowing through my soft underbelly
which someone else has carved into.
The governmental through and through.
And still, more than anything,
I forge new work in the dark,
seeking a new spark, anything to warm the virus of separation doing my part.
this hopeful little heart,
send out a wish
You are still listening.
Humanity glistening in my memory locked in the scene of my best slow dance. I find tender salves in the moments I notice how we all find our way back to each other time and time again.
Then how quickly to get lost in the game.
We’re survivors after all and above all the same. Somewhere inside beyond the things easily named.
At the cells our energies dwell between
your inhale and mine.
Energy entwined if only for the time of this song.
What’s even stronger than war and greed and loss and desire:
the fundamental principle and absolute fire inside all of us?
*Love.
We just keep forgetting.
~Mira
Black's Blog
