Photo: (c) Barbara Melton
I wonder,
What do the wild geese, looking down, think of us as they
V northward in raucous skeins at winter’s close?
And, what are they saying?
And, why have I not yet learned the vocabulary of passing
geese
after so many years of backs and forths?
And, what good is a romantic notion if no one ever gets
kissed?
It feels something like that, don’t you think?
The wild invites fullness and emptiness
in the same
casual breath.
I have been wild. My soul remembers
the intuitively tenuous
sound of that vow.
Being of the wild requires that we pledge
ourselves to
authenticity:
A muskrat agrees to be an oily-haired muskrat.
The praying mantis dedicates its two front legs
to grabbing
and holding and worshiping,
And, a bird says, "yes," to being whatever species
of
bird laid the egg that it pipped out of,
one "it-must-be-now" peck at a
time,
on that first day of its life.
You must not waiver or doubt your destiny,
for everything
else is depending on you to keep your agreement.
To show up. To do what it is you
do. And, generally speaking,
that will include dying to something bigger than
yourself.
Yes, I wonder,
what the wild geese think of us as they V northward
in raucous skeins at winter’s close.
Perhaps they say to each other:
“See, down there, the footprints upon the land?
This is what it looks like when a species breaks the
promise.”
And, meanwhile, here we are, looking up and thinking:
“Oh, a flock of geese!
Oh, how wonderful it must be to
be wild and free.”
~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
Published in "Conversations with Mary: Words of Attention and Devotion"
Many thanks to Barbara Melton for the beautiful greater snow goose photo!
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