Clearing, a poem by Morgan Farley

I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back
I am making a circle so open
the moon will fall in love
and strike these grasses with her silver
I am setting stones in the four directions
stones that have called my name
from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesas
Here I will stand with my hands empty
mind empty under the moon
And if something
takes my life, if a sudden wind
sweeps through me, changing everything
I will not resist
I am ready for whatever comes
But I think it will be
something small, an animal
padding out from the shadows
on delicate paws, or a word
spoken so softly I hear it inside
There is a way to live that makes the angels cry
out 
in rapture. There is
a way to live that makes
each star a cell
Come stand with me here, it is
cold I know, and silent,
nothing is happening
The next breath, and the next, is the new life

“Now then, stand still and see this great thing the Lord is about to do before your eyes!” ~1 Samuel 12:16  ✝

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