Sunday, March 22, 2015

the shift

the saints have been sleeping
under blankets of deep snow
their prayers frozen solid silent still

and now
at the end of the months-long winter’s night
they begin to dream in dawn’s first glowing
their rapid eye movement
                            the first fluttering of life deep under all

they dream of places where even god has never been
they dream of things not yet seen this side of the moon
they dream up songs both ancient and new

and slowly, slowly, slowly a melody rises from the pores of rock hard ground
the returning birds sing it first
the sun offers a slow strong bass beat
the swelling creeks accompany
and it wakes the sleeping bear in you

these songs have never been heard
these songs await lyrics that only you can write
these songs have a chorus we’ve heard before our birthing
and now is when we are called to sing

something’s shifting
something’s broken the frozen heart’s secret hold
something’s rising with a sweet surprise
and soon
and not too soon

we’ll see the saints dancing
with the seventh generation’s joy
at last

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