Bridge

Bridge

Days were spacious and meandered like the tiny ants. Their poetic harmonies perceived in the purposeful trails of mighty crumb carriers or discovered in cavernous catacombs where caretakers tended white-capsuled promise with artistic obsession. Sensing a meaning greater, you slowed down to smell with funiculus, understanding light through ocelli. You learned belonging, transcendence and the ant-paths between. Watchful eyes became deep-pooled ant-skies mirroring cooperative orchestras of collective hope. You offered God arms then. Let them crawl across the downy fields of your skin.

Bridge-maker.

This was before; when sun rays woke you, wind guides led you across still or gusting hours. The world, a small, silent stone or a bursting thundercloud booming her flashing bolts; before the tick, tick, tick of clocks when time collapsed in rivers who carried you gently or held you to spin, to drift, to swirl.

Cradled.

Before boxing and tightening that left you a tense, tired, untended orphaned animal caught in yearning. You became clipped; checking boxes on efficient screens that measured you small, small, smaller, wedged tightly into the cramped corners of some billionaire’s bank account A forgetful, snowfall freeze required that made you dormant as great bear in his den unaware of greedy armies who swipe away millennia with a careless thumb. 

Numb.

Remember though, with freeze is thaw that melts the best-made plans. Drip, drip, drips shine as they fall from long-lived watchful firs and stir your beating heart awake in the cavernous den of your chest. Black bear shakes grogginess as he ambles into the melting morning. 

Hungry. 

Can you seek like him, animal-ready? Senses warmed awake, stir cramped limbs to clamber out of mind’s confinement to fumble and stumble and ramble a way into a still-learning day? Remember the emergency of emergence? Impossible to stay trapped when the season calls crashing through your doubt like a calving glacier. Spring smells pull with spells of a world’s untended wounds. Pressure swells. Can you crackle electric, let the storms that are stirring shock you open? You made bridges of your body once. 

Connector.

May this moment be a catalyst for your courage.

— Written by Janis