Presence, in the Land of Apple Blossoms

 

The Dead Woman came into her body
at mid-life; a slow emergence,
the thawing of ice, the painful
experience of feeling her feelings,
unfolding her icebound limbs,
that made her long for the frozen state
once more.

The others would not let her go back.
They insisted she Be Here Now,
fully present to all life would bring.
Allowing her space in their proximity,
until she felt safe, they
gentled her into bloom. Then, 
like a flowering tree, dropping 
poems like spent blossoms,
she unfurled her crossed arms,
opened herself to the world,
and the world loved her back.

The sunshine of love and life
 drew her forth, with music
and song and lovely people
dancing in a circle in a meadow.
Because they believed she was 
someone to love, she did too.
She became Wild Woman, 
fully herself, free, unfettered,
alive; and, after a short time,
she spread new wings
and flew.

Day 21

A poem about Presence, as a response to yesterday's Absence.