Freely Weeping

I see you singing, dear one,
in a field where yellow daffodils
explode in joy.
In the forest at the end of the field,
the intertwined trees
kiss in dance of branches.
You too, have lost all separation,
your cells singing like the kiskadee,
your breath wafting like the scent
of the plumeria blossom.
You have forgotten separateness
from the field, from the forest,
from the morning. You are
all the greens and all the golds.
Oh how you belong
to the here and the now.

But in Ukraine.
But in Myanmar.
But in Afghanistan.
In Yemen, Colombia, Somali.
In Nigeria, and Darfur.
In Sudan and Syria.
In Kashmir and the Gaza,
in Chad, Iran, Peru.
Paraguay, South Thailand.
Right this now,
in too many places,
here means
hunger, fear, and fighting.
In so many places, belonging
brings no rest. Separateness
seems all there is.

You belong to here
and now.
You’re passing through,
a traveler with an earthy chance
to learn and love,
before your opportunity
concludes.
I see you freely weeping
unwinding your wisdom
in a spiral path behind you,
freely weeping,
dear one,
to keep on living large,
to keep on
belonging,
oh, belonging.

©Susa Silvermarie 2022