We are holding in the cries of fear,
Refusing to surrender to truth.
What can come of filling the streams
Of Gaia’s veins with our tears but a flood of pain?
Can the rifts in her ancient skin be healed?
Can canyon walls ever merge into a New Earth
Free of grief and loss?
The fingers of the Sun can only reach so far
Into the depths for galactic truth.
Has God succumbed to the Fire?
It cannot be so.
Though dense on the edges of Holy Planes,
Light is there.
Light and Shadow share one spectrum,
Always in battle for healing,
Finding the perfect balance.
Where Earth is upheaved grows new bounty.
The pain of ripping soil births potential,
Shimmering translucent as
Tiny perfect fingers rooting in Time,
Swaddled in constellations
Webbing Then and Now.
Time is connected on all planes.
Today’s prayers heal the past
As it has never ended.
All grief is omnipresent and infinite
If we remain in slumber.
Hope is wholeness.
The future is “I AM”.
Tears heal tears in the fabric of Time,
Filling in the rifts and canyons of geologic upheaval
With Love transmuted into cosmic truth.
We are One.
Our tears are Gaia’s rain.
The clogged well of each heart
Is her burden to bear.
Our actions become her prayers or her curses.
She cries in fire, wind and geologic torment when
We fail to love her power,
Which supports us in the lattice of her cosmic apron
To which we cling as babes born innocent
And slow to awaken to her grief,
Which is ours to bear.
Copyright© 2017/12/10 Barbara Harris Leonhard