As the trees go bare
and the winds chill,
we hear ancestors
whisper in dreams
and in stones,
we hear a summons
rising on the steam
and trailing through our bones.
We set forth
seeking mystery,
craving understanding,
determined that we will listen,
we will change,
we will keep our promises.
We descend and we remember.
We find the cauldron full-bellied and black.
We gather by the fire.
We peer inside the depths.
We have been steeping
in the broth of our own liberation,
brewing dreams
and stirring in as much hope
as we can find.
Finally, we pause,
patient with all that is undone, unknown,
and unfinishable.
We recognize that we may never arrive
and yet,
we are here anyway.
Slowly,
we begin to consume
the stuff of our own renewal,
the sustenance we crave.
Quietly,
we savor the taste
of what we've made of our lives.
With gratitude,
we realize:
it is good.
Happy Samhain!
My newest book of poems: In the Temple of the Ordinary, vol. 2 is available now via Amazon and Barnes and Noble and also open for pre-order on Kindle.
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