Song of the South: River Song

Here is another poem I wrote while experiencing the presence of the cosmic Christ through meditating at the river at Wild Goose festival. 
May it bless you!

The stillness speaks

 in crevices of rocks, 

in whispered voices of rustling leaves,

in flowing streams that call out in wordless rhymes 

our hearts hear, as they interpret for us 

thoughts too deep 

for our conscious minds to know 

in cicada cries that set my spirit dancing 

in step with echoes of a knowing deep and true,

beyond all images, even language itself.
These thin places, o Cosmic Christ, 

are where I feel 

your hand taking mine 

like my own brother 

leading me up craggy cliffs 

as we climb beyond mist-filled valleys 

dim with shadow 

embraced by that Spirit 

whose song surrounds us 

in every greening leaf 

scurrying squirrel 

and heartbroken face 

now cracking with the dawning

of laughter, song, and story 

where the full-throated wail 

of sorrow, trauma, loss once reigned.


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