I climb through the weave of my life,
contemplating the complexities of my purpose,
knowing deep down, I carry the warmth of an inner-light.
Inexplicable it would seem, as I have mastered the art
of finding every snag, to bind my feet and hands
within my own shadow…
forever tangled in the fray of a looming past.
I pull away.
I dare to ask myself, ‘Why?’
left without a thread of vibrancy or resolve.
I think of the spirits…
the spectrum of their shades, how they have moved me
to moments of peace, filled me with the shudder of fear,
and shown me, but a flicker of profound understanding…
The twisting arms and bodies of trees, the breath of wind
that whispers in knowing tongues, and the cosmic gaze
of wiser birds, tilting their heads as if to say,
‘You know the way’…
Oh so many birds, calling me to flight,
or taunting me to the darker edge of my mind,
where the torment of an open seam reveals
what I gave…so freely away.
My instinct, worn along the feathers and wings
of a great white owl, his silent omens
soaring above my transitions, regardless of my revisions
or self-destructive decisions.
He has always been there…
Majestic in his guide, true to each moment and difficult time.
And I, ever so aware of his significance; yet I carry on,
as if blind, blurring out the beauty of such a vision-
needling at my own worthiness,
’til I choke on the gag of hopeless knots.
I pull away.
But for my children sewn into my heart,
mine own spirit would wander
lost in the ache of yesterday…
I hold on to their eyes and smiles,
rekindling the flame of my inner-warmth;
all else that grieves, hemmed along the borders
and tightly stitched into my side.
For they are the filigree of my colors,
the miracles of my fabric, intricately woven
into the pattern of a timeless tapestry…
the only purpose I know, for myself,
to feel true and worthy.