Fall in Port Alberni
photo from Heart of Vancouver Island
Birds cross the sky in covens,
this golden autumn-of-my-life.
My eyes follow their flight,
my soul quickening to the sound
of their honking admonition:
follow the predestined route!
Find your way home!
The Voice of My Tribe croons a chant
that murmurs on the breeze.
I feel the winds of change blowing through
the drafty chambers of my
The Old Ones are telling me:
Time to open the door of the cage
and free the wild bird of your being,
the one you have been hushing
and placating with crumbs
for so long.
Free her with joy, and,
as her wide wings swoop and thrum
across the shimmering sky,
traveling between the worlds
in the space-where-there-is-no-space,
heed the call of those wild birds.
They are giving voice to
the longings of your soul.
Lift up that expectant, waiting life
with the urgency
and, if you're ever going to fly again
as, once, you flew,
do it soon,
do it completely.
Do it now.
One from September of 2014, my friends, as I am doing a seven day babysitting stint, at someone else's house, four kids, one autistic, one a six month old baby - I will have computer access only in the evenings, so please forgive me if my visits are spotty, and take me a while. I'll make up for it next week!
p.s. Here it is another September, and I still have not made that flight over the mountains. Sigh.