She speaks to me
of BEing.
She speaks of circumstance
external
reality
as a reflection
nothing but a mirror
of the way we be
inside
the waves and strands
of belief expectation holding hiding
radiant shining
Reweave the strands.
Dance a new waving rhythm.
Watch the reflection
change.
She says
the reflection is the teacher
the gifter
of discernment
for those who look
in the mirror
and see
within.
Today I
AM
but the reflection
is so loud
and the waves
appear like tsunamis
about to break
upon my beach.
How can she tell me to gather shells
idly along the morning sands?
Saying, notice
the seabirds circling and
soaring?
Saying, look
through this towering wave
and see the blue horizon
beyond?
The reflection
is a roaring in my ears
thundering
barreling waves baring down
But she
old woman
humming bits of song
bends over to finger a pretty
shell
and smiles
back at me
holding up her shining
treasure,
carries on
seeing only beauty
sand shell sky bird
and has no fear
of waves.
She speaks
but I cannot hear
howling waves
reflecting
me
She speaks
and inside the rushing
wave
is her voice:
Everything
she says
Everything
Is
Holy
* * * *
And the sound
of her
Holy
Voice
ripples through the reflections
flashing light in all directions.
Now
I AM
singing.
