If you ever lose heart and the earth seems as distant as stars fading into the noise of your busy mind, know this. That a tiny island exists in the blue hands of the ocean. That a tree grows upright into the salted clouds. That two eagles love each other enough to spend their lives greeting the morning sun together. That two eaglets stand in their nest, gazing at the heavens. Looking down to the forever ground. They eat and sleep and flap their wings. And one day in July, one by one, they will jump into the air. They will know the difference between existing and what is beyond. They will hold onto nothing. The hurricane will come, courage catching their pinions on fire, as they mount the wind, climbing ladders into realms of the invisible.

--T.L. Stokes

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Moon's Dream

Two nights ago
the womb-baby
came to me,
skin fair as transparent spring,
her body round and light
like a baby seal,
and I held her
as a grandmother does
for the first time,
gossamer bundle
of blanket and knees,
newness of her oyster heart
turning pearl.
I brought my face down close
to feel the feel of the wispy fluff
of her head, drawing in the warm scent,
small searching hands, bud
upon bud, and magic.
I think the curious moon,
pouring over us it's creamy thoughts,
brought her and the dream
to me.
It's like that you know,
the moon, the sun, the earth,
bringing their ear close
to the slosh and pull,
the moon-colored swimmer
in her dark and muffled ocean.

for Heather & Derek

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