Updated: Jun 28, 2020
Deep in paradox. Love-hate Shame-rage stewing Cauldron pot delicious brewing, And wondering what I’m cooking up in this collective story? It’s time to open my mouth, I say. But I am silence. How can I speak clearly with tears clogging up this ship amidst a pretend-it’s-normal chaos storm attempting to stay afloat under the joke of illusion that it really matters? * Compassion. I said: Compassion. Com- passion. Compass -ion. This sweet wise compass that guides us even when we can’t hear even when you can’t feel it guides me. Willing threads weaving kindness, beneath the soil, in our ventricles. And, learning again, in letting go... the still waters always follow.