Thursday Poem - Clearing

I am clearing a space

here, where the trees stand back.

I am making a circle so open

the moon will fall in love

and stroke these grasses with her silver.

 

I am setting stones in the four directions,

stones that have called my name

from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas.

Here I will stand with my hands empty,

mind gaping under the moon.

 

I know there is another way to live.

When I find it, the angels will cry out in rapture,

each cell of my body will be a rose, a star.

 

If something seized my life tonight,

if a sudden wind swept through me,

changing everything,

 

I would not resist.

I am ready for whatever comes.

 

But I think it will be something small, an animal,

padding out from the shadows,

or a word spoken so softly

I hear it inside.

 

It is dark out here, and cold.

The moon is stone.

I am alone with my longing.

Nothing is happening

but the next breath, and the next

is the new life.

 

Morgan Farley

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back.
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and stroke these grasses with her silver.

I am setting stones in the four directions,
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas.
Here I will stand with my hands empty,
mind gaping under the moon.

I know there is another way to live.
When I find it, the angels will cry out in rapture,
each cell of my body will be a rose, a star.

If something seized my life tonight,
if a sudden wind swept through me,
changing everything,

I would not resist.
I am ready for whatever comes.

But I think it will be something small, an animal,
padding out from the shadows,
or a word spoken so softly
I hear it inside.

It is dark out here, and cold.
The moon is stone.
I am alone with my longing.
Nothing is happening
but the next breath, and the next
is the new life.

By Morgan Farley

- See more at: http://learningtolinger.com/blog/2011/10/09/clearing/#sthash.1blkDvFj.dpuf

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back.
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and stroke these grasses with her silver.

I am setting stones in the four directions,
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas.
Here I will stand with my hands empty,
mind gaping under the moon.

I know there is another way to live.
When I find it, the angels will cry out in rapture,
each cell of my body will be a rose, a star.

If something seized my life tonight,
if a sudden wind swept through me,
changing everything,

I would not resist.
I am ready for whatever comes.

But I think it will be something small, an animal,
padding out from the shadows,
or a word spoken so softly
I hear it inside.

It is dark out here, and cold.
The moon is stone.
I am alone with my longing.
Nothing is happening
but the next breath, and the next
is the new life.

By Morgan Farley

- See more at: http://learningtolinger.com/blog/2011/10/09/clearing/#sthash.1blkDvFj.dpuf

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back.
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and stroke these grasses with her silver.

I am setting stones in the four directions,
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas.
Here I will stand with my hands empty,
mind gaping under the moon.

I know there is another way to live.
When I find it, the angels will cry out in rapture,
each cell of my body will be a rose, a star.

If something seized my life tonight,
if a sudden wind swept through me,
changing everything,

I would not resist.
I am ready for whatever comes.

But I think it will be something small, an animal,
padding out from the shadows,
or a word spoken so softly
I hear it inside.

It is dark out here, and cold.
The moon is stone.
I am alone with my longing.
Nothing is happening
but the next breath, and the next
is the new life.

By Morgan Farley

- See more at: http://learningtolinger.com/blog/2011/10/09/clearing/#sthash.1blkDvFj.dpuf