Passageways

The passageway invites me,
this one a green-roofed tunnel.
I open my senses, make my way.
Light shimmers through leaves, shows me
a dimension of revelations, a path
that quiets me down to listening.
Joy multiplies, beauty intensifies,
silence deepens.
Abandoning all I already know,
I begin, with an innocent heart.

Yesterday a baby bird on the sidewalk
called my heart’s attention.
Carrying it to the vet, I sang.
I felt opened by this fragile being
with whom I share the Earth.
I leaned into its vibration.
When it died in the vet’s warm palm,
something in me made a passage too.
I acknowledged our oneness,
our kinship in the living world.

The tiny ball in space
where all of us live and die
shimmers a slender blue aura.
Deepest dark, and stars
past our largest imagining
surround the cradled Earth.
I’ve sailed through the sky
along her curve, starting to understand
passageways, how
they bring me home.

Walking a green-roofed path
or traveling through the sky,
or bearing witness to a baby bird,
or what happens on your way to work,
anything might be a passage
if we slow, and open, and track
the signs beyond our usual sensing.
The passageways are always present.
Each day a way is calling, a path
to waken, one that belongs to you.

©Susa Silvermarie 2026