In The Pastel Twilight Glow
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Pachamama sings to me, as I lie in bed.
In the pastel, twilight glow,
A magpie warbles.
Her sweet song a serenade, just for me.
Intimate, warm and tender.
On my kitchen bench she greets me.
Smiling radiant every morning.
Lush green shoots sprouting before me.
Irrepressible, vibrant, irresistible.
I walk out onto the timber verandah,
Steaming coffee in hand, to find her.
Waving elegantly through the gyrating limbs of trees.
Whispering shy through the languid breeze.
Crashing boundlessly as waves on the beach.
Pounding my ribs with rumbling thunder.
Soothing my skin in the warm afternoon sun.
Opening in flowers heavy with pollen and light.
Always there, always gently signalling her love.
She has been humming since I was born.
How long she waited for me to notice.
This vast unstoppable motion, which is also me.
Endlessly becoming and dissolving.
The froth on the ridge of a receding wave.
It’s there in the ecstatic friction of my skin,
as I rub my thumb and finger together.
Blood coursing through a web of veins.
Driven by this loving, throbbing pulse.
Fuelled by this humble breath.
As I draw energy from the universe into my heart
and release my own back into the cosmos.
No longer do I feel a stranger in an indifferent land.
I understand now, this heart is a fragment of hers.
Terra Madre to some, Prithivi to others.
How do you name the limitless?
This skin is not a barrier but a gateway of giving and receiving.
This breath a tango between mine and hers.
This heart a portal to another realm.
There in the stillness is all I seek.
The stillness I refuse to surrender to, twitching and contorting.
Avoiding the answers to questions unspoken.
The reply written everywhere around me and within.
As her hand caresses my skin on the slopes of a mountain,
gazing up at the silent, glowing Annapurna.
As the chirping of the cicadas fills the air thick with buzzing life.
As my breath finally falls into the rhythm of steps.
Separate but the same.
But she asks me, pleads with me, to participate in the flow.
She asks for ayni. Reciprocity.
To nourish her before I reach to be nourished.
To offer love with strength, compassion with courage.
To be with others in a new way, a more honest way.
Freed from the scarcity of love.
To give all I have, to be bolder with love.
To be so filled with kindness it overflows into the space between us.
To hold out my hand to those who seek her grace.
Not to lead them, for I have no path to claim,
but to stand beside them as they discover for themselves
the home and comfort that awaits in the infinite.
The confidence that there is a place in the stillness to meet her.
To learn from her the language of love and strength.
To see balance in all things.
The giving and taking we resist
until loss, love and time teach us to bow.
There in the fledgling new life.
There in the rotting leaves claimed by the mycelium.
There in the eternal dance of holding on and letting go.
There in her
Is the way
🥰🐒