Instructions to resurrect a peace

I am giving time each week to build a path for my heartwork, to express my “oh-my goddess” gene. I spent the morning crafting this poem. Editing is a lot like conscious choice. I mull, sense, listen, align, ask again, know what i know, and let making lead me somewhere new. Here it is.

Is it too simple?

Why do we forget to dance, to

move in mystery, tell stories, rally and sing,

to let laughter, tears, friendship

spring up and shock us.

Peace villages pop

whenever the green hums or a drum

that no dying drugs can ever replace calls up

a promised land of visible joy and truth

and life dances full-out.

Please play hard

in deep dream and dirt to

forge the electric bonds to heal, survive,

transcend, leave legacies, and gift

the children their soul power.

Pay honor. Dance to

free the heart words to spill forth,

sing songs in suffering and celebration and

when love’s truth forgets you,

invoke your bodyways.

Don’t stop there.

InterPlay with Grand Mystery as you

embrace wild grace on her human scale.

Watch doors and windows fly open

See the battered dance again.

Too simple?

Leap dead doubt, despair.

This Body wants to resurrect.

We’ve done it before.

We can play again.

 

-Cynthia Winton-Henry

 

 

3 comments

  1. I love the “oh-my goddess” gene! Thanks for giving it voice. And just this morning I was appreciating my own editing/writing experience, which you have expressed here so well – “I mull, sense, listen, align, ask again, know what i know, and let making lead me somewhere new. ” Yes it is how we make conscious choice.

  2. Mystery .
    Let’s live in mystery , as mystery .
    Said just this AM by author, physician, healer Rachel Naomi Remen at phenomenal integrative healthcare symposium conference in NYC .

  3. Alison Huse Farhner says:

    Just the right amount of simple. Joyfully wise!

    I didn’t know where you would go with this as I began to read, appreciating your words about your writing process and your “heart work”, I suspected in my own “goddess gene” that your poem would be an opening for my own heart to think about the dance, the movement, the play, since this is an ever-apparent and wonderful lesson, that you live, and learn and teach (so well)—
    I was truly surprised though, at how struck I was by your invocations, when my own heart in this body leaped at the words, “This body wants to resurrect.”
    I know this, have known it, but I think as you say: love’s truth forgot me, or I forgot it, and my doors and windows are less open, but once more I am willing and ready to embrace the wild grace of Grand Mystery, and leap the dead doubt, despair…and play again.
    Thank you Cynthia~

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