prose poem

Komorebi

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

Dappled light in the forest of my dreams.  Serene.  Peace.  At ease.  Body vibrating at the same frequency as the trees.  The breeze lifts a tendril of hair and my spirit soars.  I feel good.

Oh to feel good.  For nothing to hurt.  Not my back.  Not my feet.  Not my heart. 

I can’t remember when.,,  Let’s not go there. 

I want a komorebi tan – light-kissed skin with the shapes of leaves tattooed by the sun.

I remember my first fall and deciduous trees.  I was enraptured.  I made a glue of flour and water and pasted fallen leaves to the mirror of my Sears French Provincial dresser.  I was 12.  The leaves were orange and red and brown.  The flour dried hard and solid.  Those leaves were there for months and months.  Until… I don’t know why or when I removed them.

Komorebi – you can almost smell the fragrance of chlorophyll.  The trees respirating oxygen.  A body can breathe in the forest.  Deep cleansing breaths. Breathe in the now, exhale the past. 

Relax.  Rejuvenate.  Rejoice. 

May the forest always be with us.  May the light always be with us.  May peace be our birthright.  Forever and ever Amen.

I am David.

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

The Philistines are upon me.  A great army across the valley taunting and tormenting my peaceful village.  I am afraid.   They are big, they are evil, and they want our peace of mind.  Our happy spirits.  They want to trample us in the mud and take our lives. To leave us as carrion on the valley floor.

Photo by Jianxiang Wu on Unsplash

Oh where is my David?  Where is the sling and the five smooth stones?  I need to triumph over the Philistines coming for me. Coming for us.

Their largest, Goliath, heaps insult upon me.  His very presence is a storm cloud over me and my heart is heavy, my mind churning, and my body trembling.  He can do so much damage to me and mine. 

Deliver me from this Philistine.

Oh, Lord, hear my prayer.

I drop to my knees and see that the daffodils have buds.  The wheel in the sky is turning.  Spring comes.  I feel hope in my chest flutter like an awakening bird. Not the peaceful dove, but the avenging hawk.

There is no David.  There is no sling.  There are no five smooth stones.  There is just me and my travails.  Just me and my scant courage. Oh Lord hear my prayer and give me the strength of the daffodils.

The strength to emerge victorious in frightening conditions.  The strength to outlast adversity.  The strength to blossom in deep snow.  Do not let this be a false spring. 

Bring me the peace of knowing that I am enough.  That I can lead a victorious life.  One that is free of the Philistines that would steal my tranquility and ravage my happy home.

If David can be unafraid and face the threat in the knowledge that he is enough, I can too. 

I am David.

Goliath will not be my nemesis.  I alone can defeat the peril with the sweet spirit of a shepherd protecting what they have been charged to watch over. 

Oh Lord, hear my prayer. Shepherd me through this perilous time.

Hush.

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment
Gabriele Corno Moonlight Shadow

Hush.

Shhhhhhhh.

Just stop. 

The earth and the moon are still.  Be quiet, be at ease but be attentive to the silence.

This is the night you will remember during the moment of your last breath, before your transformation but after your acquiescence. 

What will come is unorthodox, but beautiful.  Holy in its perfection.

Be ye not afraid.

Remember,

This too shall pass.

A Faithful Old Dog

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

If my body were a puppy, I would love it.  I would love it through the rumble tumble time.  I would love it when it chewed up my shoes, and I would love it all snuggled up in blankets while I read a book.  I would smile at its bark and savor the kisses.

Photo by Michael Cummins on Unsplash

I would tickle its fat little tummy and laugh.

If my body were a mountain, it would be an Appalachian and not a Rocky.  All mounds and curves, nothing jagged. 

If my body were an infant, I would feed it when hungry and rock it to sleep.

If my body were a tree, I would marvel at the changes the years would bring.

If my body were a leaf, it would be from an oak. Ordinary for its place and time, but still a miracle to be in awe of.

If my body were a creek, it would start out as a trickle growing and growing until it needed to release the overflow to something larger than itself.

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