While trying to mediate this morning a poem came to me. I am trying to find stillness today, in a country where all is in a mess of politics and fearful anticipation, in a month where my community breaks up and goes to other lives in other places, not knowing what we will return to, at a stage in my life where I am wondering in an unfamiliar empty nest. I realize I am living with the sense that everything is waiting for something to happen, some epic change. But when I really examine the feeling I realize the moment is not waiting; instead every moment is monumental in its own reality.

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This moment

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Feels like I’m standing here, waiting,

paused on trembling lip in blank postponement.

Monochrome shadows after action,

dim backward echo

of an approaching future.

Apprehension, suspension.

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Feels like waiting,

but it’s not.

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Irresistible forces of time, tugged by gravity,

treacherous reverberations of The Big Bang

hurtling through infinite space,

clinging to dazzling sun,

neutralizing velocity of the cautious moon.

Flinging, spinning.

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Feels like waiting

but it’s not.

 .

Standing on an earth suspended on fluid lava

that seeks for volcanic cracks,

while sun beats desert anvils,

winds howl over vacuums.

Tectonic rising of rock solid blistering, fracturing,

eroding, exploding.

 .

Feels like waiting,

but its not.  

 .

Body voiceless, motionless, still,

while metabolism roars in pulsing organs.

Bacteria ferment, digestion rumbles.

Respirations panting, excretion expels,

 osmosis, absorption.

Cells expire, synapses fire.

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Feels like waiting

but its not.

 .

 .

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