Wild Sky – Christy Anne Martine

She lost herself in the trees

among the ever-changing leaves.

She wept beneath the wild sky

as stars told stories of ancient times.

The flowers grew towards her light,

the river called her name at night.

She could not live an ordinary life

with the mysteries of the universe

hidden in her eyes.

Parenthood

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them.

Children move on, they move away.

The moments that used to define them,

a mother’s approval, a father’s nod, are covered by moments of their own accomplishments.

It’s not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand.

Their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, store upon stone, beneath the waters of their lives.

Sometimes – David Whyte

Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest

breathing
like the ones
in the old stories

who could cross
a shimmering bed of dry leaves
without a sound, 

you come
to a place
whose only task

is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests

conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.

Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and

to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,

questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,

questions
that have patiently
waited for you,

questions
that have no right
to go away.