Birds, branches, buds –
they don’t take a number
or wait in line
before they shout
all together, all at once,
they have no doubt:

this is their turn
too

ours.    If we wait
until all falls silent
we may know nothing
but a roiling sea of resentment.

So when your throat
or hand or eye
swells with rich red life: please

sing, shimmy, scrabble;
trust your retina and eardrum
to resound
with what resounds.

What some will hear as squawk
what some will see as shard
is your part to play
while we can.

design

 Notes

Oh, I love mornings – well, not the low buzzing unease that I often feel as I first begin to stir, but the next part – the getting up and out

…into walking and hearing my heart and seeing the sky … and art journalling …  the way different strands of mind and body of previous days manifest themselves on the page in unexpected ways.

This morning, feeling a familiar low that often stays with me until I get outside, I took my notebook and crayons and pen.

As my mood lifted, I stopped with my phone to record the new visual meditation: Why I Wake Early.

On the page, after being saturated with blue sky and red flowers and the crackling bark of trees and parrots shouting all at once …

came this, echoing the poem I read yesterday – Mary Oliver’s ‘Why I Wake Early’.

Then, as it flowed onto the page (my own take on ‘Why I Wake Early’) tears spilled down my cheek. I found myself in the midst of celebrating sunshine and life, while struggling to accept the shock of hearing yesterday about a tragic loss of life. That second poem is here. I share it cautiously, knowing that there are others close to this precious young man who will feel such devastating grief. But I hope there is comfort to in knowing this loss doesn’t just touch hundreds of us – it wrenches us.