Decay

Decay

The day the

call came that would

change everything, I went

walking...and

everything

did in fact

shift.

Sometimes the unanticipated tincture of

mortality is the only balm

brash enough to heal a

deeper blindness

Outside the world greeted me

with an indifferent beauty, brilliant and severe,

an aliveness only known to

intimates of decay.

A growing ache of

recognition

long forgotten wisdoms

buried in bones

remembered

"This is the way of things"

nurse log whispered,

"My body given for seedlings."

Rotting Coho feeds her eggs, her

Ancestors' bodies swept up

roots now waving leaves

cooling waters of

grave and womb alike

This is the way of things.

This is the way of things.

No great loss to fall apart, to die

So a Greater Life may flourish.