This is a time of ritual opening. The world knows what to do… the daffodils shoot upward, the insects hatch, lizards crawl out of their dens. And the prayers. In the still moments the soft prayers come, they pass over each of us like snippets of a new song, or whispers of a promise. We need only listen, attentive and true. Listen to what is calling you. Shed the skin of old habit, melt the fear that freezes. Trust each breath, trust the cycle of becoming. Prepare for a great resurgence where greed and cruelty die a thousand deaths. We want only to live in a kingdom of kindness. We are feeling today the sorrow for lives lost and, too, the immense possibility of renewal. Who knows the creative force behind this strange, silent season? Get ready to emerge from this long dark dormancy. The time is upon us now for rising up, waking from this long, mute, insentient sleep.
Ice pack buckles in the torrent of the spring stream
Who could stand this relentless gushing?
Its momentum shifts the contours of my mind
So that the banks now widen
The landmarks I once knew—
All too familiar—are washed away in the shifted stream’s course.
And heading home in the falling light
My legs unthawing with every step,
I follow a sixth sense—or is it the seventh?–
When above me, I hear the distant pumping of robust wings
A flock of migrating geese
Headed for their summer stomping grounds.