.

They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.

(Mexican proverb)

.

We’ve grown tired of being pinched

by small rusting tacks

holding tight

meant to toughen our skin.

.

Plastered like Reels

rapidly scrolling

plastered to eyeballs

stuck in our ears

.

Listen, you old schemers

We’re not looking for saviors

nor suckling your messengers

pedaling the news

.

We seek grounding instead

in the wild fecund darkness

deeply cocooned

in our memories unbound

.

Listening to choirs

of Winged Ones spinning

from the silk

of our stories now loosened

and taking flight from the sound.

.

“To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings”     ….. Wendell Berry

.

Painting © by Jana White

Instagram @ Jana_H_White