The Big "IT" Hit.

When we meet and see that we are Two.. or more... what will we do?

Photo by KATRIN BOLOVTSOVA: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-woman-holding-sleep-mask-7445179/

One day the big "it" hits you. Could be as simple as an "oh snap!" poof you waken to something that has been dancing around the edges of your consciousness for like ever.

Or it could be a bottom drop into a space with surface tension sufficient enough to momentarily jar the ego's grip on a version of reality that but served an illusion and worked to keep a sense of ok-ness for a while - a listener choosing Nero’s fiddling over the blood-curdling screams Rome is fucking burning down buddy wake up!!

This is a wake up call

And yes we are praying now
We are always praying
Whether in the sheets or the streets, the poor house or the bank -
we are always praying

Annoying, I know
But even annoying is an answer to a prayer for those who woke to the call to walk in the world awake

Oh,
I would so like to be the author of this call
Might be motivation for a book or a tour

But I am swimming
in the tumultuous (amazing I got that word it has so many U’s and not enough I’d but I digress) 
ocean-space between grounded here and flapping-in-the-wind-there
with the rest of humanity
Trying to grab something,
anything
my roots
your roots
their roots
yesterdays roots,
other people floating by 
anchor-spaces 

just 

out 

of 

grasp…

"It" is destabilizing
Jarring
Bone shaking

This is what is happening now

"It" is hitting us

Individually and collectively

The war is but a metaphor
Of an innervision

Disturbing the peace

Forcing 
the seeing of things
the saying of things
the re-thinking of things
the being woke 
in spaces 
that make every cell 
of your skin
scream
bloody
fucking 
murder
before ripping off
and exiting stage left!
leaving a messy puddle on the floor
Oh, Snap!
That’s what it’s for -
a bag
not a wall
for judgement
at all

Ah comfort
my comfort
my soul for some comfort -
northern
eastern
western
southern
potion
I don’t care
just get me outta here
to the sea
of blissful 
blinded
complacency

"It" is not having that

Eye to eye
We tip out hats

If you see me
Know me
Hear my name

Or I you 

We are intersecting 
At that fork in the road
Asking
What will we do?

Do we heed
the call to heal

Or

Will we sigh
with weary breath
sink back 
to the dreams of death? 

I

For one
Have seen the wreckage
In my wake
And that is not
The path I want to take

Neither should you 
For our soul
And the soul of the world’s sake.