I love you.
I love your curves in the rivers,
The volcanoes that release such potent steam and
The waves that calm me on the beach.
I love your people, my people.
I love the givers, the good-hearted,
I love those soul-wounded ones who have yet to wake up
And don’t understand yet.
They don’t understand how wounded they are in their
Actions that serve the illusions of the stock market and
Big bank accounts.
I love the ones who persist in thinking that energy can only be
Sourced from somewhere deep in Mother Gaia’s bones.
Their resistance to waking up calls on my deepest compassion
That is not so easy for me to find every minute of
But I’m trying.
I love those who think that women are lesser along with people
Who look different than they do. Since I know they are soul-wounded too,
And their blindness and the thorns in their hearts are
Blocking them from knowing that we are all One.
I love the ones who burn and slash the forests to line some very few
People’s bank accounts since they too have chained themselves to an
Illusion that is so short-term.
There are so many chained to the illusions, and I hold all of them in
This is where I sit this morning. As the
Sun shines such glorious healing energies down on trees that
Think it might be Spring but are wise enough to pause their
Flowering with the freezing last night.
And the frost sprinkled on the clover this morning
Under my bare feet
Reminded me it was time for me to Wake up
Even more, also.
I hold the Love.
Grateful for the frost,
(c) Mare Cromwell
March 4, 2017