Our Dreamers’ Batons

Our dreamers’ batons
at play, in grace;
and the stories rise,
and our precious lives
keep unfurling.

Today my baton of creation
lolls lazy,
making clouds into waves,
so my bruised soul
can flow.

Let me disperse in the sky,
so my particulars are everyone’s,
even the one who
appears to have disappeared.
Let me be where everything is.

Here, and I,
tucked neatly for now
between birth and death,
between
joy and grief.

I am listening, life,
to your oracles,
I am reaching, life,
for your guidance.
You have handed me the baton

so I may conduct
my weave of selves
into the grand tapestry.
Show me where
to offer my brief bloom.

Our dreamers’ batons
at play, in grace,
and the stories rise,
our tumultuous lives
keep unfurling.

©Susa Silvermarie 2022