Reaching to Receive

Hush, now.
The earth is beneath us.
Our bare feet
sinking into the soil,
our heads receptive
to the light of the sun.

We had been humming.
Playing music, shouting phrases,
slinging ideaology.
Anything to drown out
the sweet whispers
of the Earth

We created a chaos
externally, in the outer world,
to match that of the one inside.

We turned up the volume
unable to listen,
unable to face the truth.

I see you, Earth.
I hear the soft calling of the plants,
trees and sky. I can hear them purr and growl,
I can hear them weep.

Humans, are you too afraid to see
how lonely you’ve made yourselves?
You walk outside along a river,
you commune with a million beings,
and yet think you’re all alone?

You, you know who you are.
This is the gut-twisting, belly-deep
sense of knowing
that accompanies trusting
living in a beautiful world.
This is the preamble
to intellectual surrender.

Stay out here, with me.
Feet on the earth,
hair soaked with rain.
Sunshine on our noses,
snow on our eyelashes.

Learning to love what is,
roots planted firmly, arms reaching
to receive.

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