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
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