this, too

this, too

note to self

so tired.
tired of infighting and
hatred. tired of lies.
what is this human
aversion to truth?
we’ve slipped
off the diving board.
let’s cherish the bowl
of our fragile home.
wholeness is no longer
possible in the manifested
world. Kintsugi calls.
we can mend ourselves
with rivulets of goodness.
it takes more juice
to frown than smile.
choose gold.
gold lacquer and rice flour,
a delicate harmony.

start.
sit in silence.
parse what is.
right now. all of it. the lush
air at sunup’s first blush.
hawk nabs gopher.
gunfire.
parents beg.
even DNA required.
weeping, they
comfort each other.
this, too.
with a slender brush,
smooth liquid gold
into the seams.
kindness.
peace.
care.
love.

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.

4 Comments

Filed under Awakening, children, Daily reminders, death, feelings, insomnia, Love, memoir, Non-duality, nonduality, notes to self, pain, Poetry, Silence, spirituality, suffering, Truth

4 responses to “this, too

  1. Margaret Rooney

    Skye, this is beautiful, mended with gold, seams stronger.

  2. Rebecca

    My back surgeon uses titanium instead of gold. He is indeed a kintsugi master. As are you, dear Skye, with your beautiful poetry! Heart mending. Yes.

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