Morning Poem
The birds begin – this is it, we feel it coming
It’s that early morning slide, the quiet wind
the slight shifting of air. Trees flutter, giddy
expectation trembling through sap
and limb. New beginning, we get it.
Silver and soft, light grows, flushes,
fills with juice, with fullness. It’s
the arrival. A new day – do you feel it?
That shimmer and hum, rippling up
from dirt, from ground, from earth –
she, the One. It’s the disappearance
of night, of shadow, the lightening
of despair, the possibility of ‘found’
replacing ‘lost’. We rise into the mystery
already here, the grace, the miracle…
We awake to find it present, solid
as if there were never
any question. Or doubt, not that either.
On this good moment, stop. Be astonished.
Be amazed. Life – it’s ours.
© Gyllian Davies 09.01.13
Gyllian, my angel shaman friend...whenever I read your poems, I know you are complete, whole; your presence, a gift that you give the world. Berkeley is now blessed with the gift of you. Lucky them. I'm pretty sure that is really why you are there. All the rest, the studying, learning, the busy classes, are just gilding the lily who needs not spin nor sew to make herself any more complete in her beauty which is her praise to God. In my eyes, you stand radiant in your aliveness, your acute awareness of our mysterious and profound connection to our beautiful Mother, this earth that is our home. You are so at home here, aren't you, my friend? And the way you articulate the excruciating beauty of creation as it unfolds all around us serves as a guide that helps me feel more at home here, too. Thank you for this gift.
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