Maybe, Then

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

If you can’t hear the turkey tail and the bright green
moss singing on the rotted oak corpse, please don’t bother me.

If you can’t converse with a stone or
haven’t even thought about learning the language of birds,

Please move on.
Life is short. Each one.
I want my allegiances to be with lovers;
the kind that reach out and invite everything to touch them.

Two hands are not enough for this world
in my humble opinion.
There is so much to hold beyond fear, beyond hatred,
and so we must use our sensibilities to find each other.

Let my prayers be that you will hear the angels at the corpse
and listen for a long while to what the stones know

about the bodies that they have met.

And, the birds, the birds. Let me pray that someday, soon,

you will understand what they are saying about

the need to wake and rise.

Maybe, then, we could take a walk together

and be astonished

by the beauty of this world.

Maybe, then, a poet could be understood.

© 2014-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Published by Talking Waters Press 

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