Notification
I’m lying on a beach in Bali and writing poetry on the back of a babe I met while sipping a club soda with lime.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt when I met him; entering the sandy floored bar just come from surfing. His new board had been specially ordered from a designer down the street, in the village.
Multi-colored flowers stood out on it, some drooping and some budding.
When I asked him why he chose the motif he said that life is like that; sometimes down and sometimes up. You ride the perfect wave all the way into shore or rip your leg on coral. Either way, you know you’re alive. The flowers remind him of that.
I knew at that moment he’d be mine.
In a world where so many of us are looking down, faces like shadows hovering over blue light. I found one who noticed.
And so, it is.
Now we sip rum punches and watch dolphins and make love under starry skies, water lapping as it caresses our home.
We must be IN our lives. The fruits that sustain us will never be provided by the matrix makers.
The fruits come when we experience.
Nothing and no one is scary. These are lies that are told to keep us rigid and undernourished. To keep us tame. That everyone is out to get us, and we must protect what’s ours. Keep it tight and close at all costs. This is the great untruth we are fed.
We can take pity on those who are frightened. We can have empathy. But they cannot define us. They are not allowed to keep us small or limit our capacity to feel.
If Momma Earth decides to send the final blow – hurricane, tsunami, tornado, earthquake, those who remain will not care what color, shape, or brand a person is when their outstretched hand is helping them out of oblivion.
Let’s not wait until the great devastation to meet each other’s eyes or melt our own hearts.
.
.
.
Copyright Kimberly Dillon 2023