I am thinking about newly-hatched sea turtles,
and about how perfectly formed they are.

And about how, with independent instinct,
they head straight for the open ocean.

In our dream worlds,
where convention holds no sway,
we do the same.

Left to our own unencumbered instincts,
and when we are rested and happy,
we make choices that nourish our souls,
and the souls of those around us.

Finding a point of origin,
and finding where we belong,
are two sides of the selfsame coin.

Trundling into the sea of our own authenticity
may seem too simple, lacking in choice.

It is our bravest, most definitive act.

As vital to our real survival,
as to those tiny beings,
who innocently do as they must.

twig, plastic, wire
laboriously gathered
woven into a basket
with leaves as carpet
where sits the queen
for life to be ushered in.

raises fearful cry
if anyone is nearby
must thwart the enemy
with belligerent cacophony
circle over head to say
stay away.

takes not a minute
to uproot it
falls to the human might
in an unequal fight
between the highly placed
and not so blessed.

then like always
fills uneasiness
a dull ache in the chest
for a sin in haste

a shot of gun
that cannot be undone.

Compassion training ground,
telling so many stories.

A delicate blind child flutters like a young bird,
as I transcend into meditation across from him.

A handsome young prisoner is wheeled in,
orange jumpsuit identifying only part of him.

He sits in that wheelchair, head held high,
chains on his ankles and wrists.

Allowing judgments to pass him by,
he lives in his own interior world.

Some hybrid of grace and shock coexist,
when one we love faces medical uncertainty.

Cliffs of rocky words crumble into
landslides of incomplete sentences
I climb your ill frigid mountain
of self-righteous commitments
Gathering suppressed memories
I reach the summit of your greed
There the air is far too thin to breathe

The fear of your heights paralyzing
The cold of your winter realizing
I see my breath as the frostbite starts
Your avalanche of resentments fills my heart
Breaking my spirit, arresting my soul
'Til all that's left is you, the model I role

A footing unfit for vindication
A biography unfit for syndication
I froze in your tundra so many years ago
Until at last, like you I am the snow
I lost myself zeroes below...