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Many of us
have seen
and experienced
timed spaced reality
of what a poet/est
has to be in the waiting
womb of poetic reality:-
Others—and us—at times
must realize that we too
must be and become as Sarah;
waiting on the timing of God
in pregnancy, growth, incubation,
and natural delivery of the water
breaking flow of the crying word.
Meanwhile, we can walk
with the word…stand with it…
sit down and wait with it…
or simply lay down and feel it
kicking and pushing to break out!
Listen, be not sorry
but be bulgingly aware
that today we are where
we are as yesterday was where
we were so that tomorrow
we will be where we’re willed…
The graceful beauty
of our mused circle is
its radius reaching out
from and to us all
in the onement we are in:
God’s blessed onderfulment
that nourishes the oneness
of our vibing circle—
wrapped around us like
the blessed arms of
of undying peace and love:-
As in nature, so it is in us:
poetic fruits are not born ripe;
like all else, they are born
to become so in due time
whether or not messages rhyme,
nothing can abort God’s birthing word!
