Posted by: Lisa | May 9, 2015

Birth

The tomb and the womb are one
and the same vessel — dark
and watery in their promises:
Holding for a time, cradling
that which journeys onward.
Sometimes cool and
sometimes boiling, new life
waits and listens, absorbs
sounds outside, in the unknown
territory — so vast and multi-
hued in imagination, endless
in possibilities.

Birth.  Where,
doesn’t matter. When, is
never soon enough it seems.

Freedom beckons to the tune
of distant chiming bells and joyous
voices heard amid tall pines,
their feet strewn with cones — each
one full to overflowing with seeds,
with love, on the path of life.
Even dry bones hold a record
and point toward a fresh tomb
of mother earth.

Advertisements

What are your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: