A day at the river. Yoga on a rock 3 feet square and 3 feet high in the middle of the stream with endless moments of meditation. Good time spent with friends and children. Cicada’s chanting endless Kirtan…they call, silent listening is my response. I could stay out there forever, and in a way always am…we always are. Hiked in the water carefully keeping my backpack out of the liquid because I knew a poem was waiting to fall down upon the notebook that I hoped to keep dry. Found my spot in the sunlight and wrote what came forth.
You cannot die without fear,
if you have not ever lived,
all the chances you never took,
to laugh, to love, to cry and forgive
wait for you
in the last place you’ll ever see
disguised as fear.
You will brush away the invisible hands
from taking what you feel is yours…even more so
when deep down you wish
that there was so much more for them to take,
You will wish there was a treasure chest
in place of the pickpocket’s coin pouch
so easily removed from your weary clutch
of those last moments.
fill your life
with so much to lose
that there will be
more than enough to share
You can die without fear
if you have fully lived.
Then I packed away the notebook and fell asleep, irrespective of clocks and timekeeping in general, to the roar of cicadas and water all about me.