When the Wind Says Dance
tree song, by Amanda Cooke
Some say there is no other way, that we must pick a side. Before I knew myself as a tree, I might have believed them. Now I know if that were really true, we may as well already be dead. Now I have ears to the ground and stars, I hear those calling for the other way. They say I am no stranger to ruin or being pulled apart by panic. I know how to stand up, make poison into blessing, to break in two and survive, I know how to cling to life with a heart laid bare. I know the depths of my courage, the depths of my courage. I hold time and seeds of a new world, I know what is lost when we forget. We belong to each other. I cannot be desensitized, only expand in widening circles, resuscitate and be shelter, bear witness and give thanks, say yes when the wind says dance. I hold time and seeds of a new world, I know what is lost when we forget. We belong to each other. I will not be desensitized, only explained in widening circles, resuscitate and be shelter, bear witness and give thanks, say yes when the wind says dance. Say yes when the wind says dance. Say yes when the wind says dance. Say yes when the wind says dance. Say yes when the wind says dance.
-
, author of Reunion Song - poems for reconnection and remembering yourself home. NOW AVAILABLE in paperback worldwide. I have a gorgeous, limited edition hardback on my bed stand, her mystical truths my new evening ritual of pausing, reflecting, returning.
“…say yes when the wind says dance.”
Thank you Kimberly. I’ve never met a tree I didn’t like, or a poem that speaks a kind word about trees.
When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold, Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold
J.R.R. Tolkien
"I hold time and seeds of a new world,
I know what is lost when we forget.
We belong to each other."
just this morning upon awakening i thought of a passage in my book where the protagonist is walking thru his city with a 10,000 year old shaman
"The shaman breaks his gaze and turns to look at Han, his mouth begins to form a question, 'So where is your tribe?'
'Uh. Oh, we don’t really have tribes.” The Shaman is staring at Han. He picks up his bone whistle and plays his tune."
they are in a magical collaborative reality where han wants to know how the ancient people lived and the ancient shaman wants to know what happened to his place / there are many startling wonders for the shaman to contemplate and not having a tribe is one of the strangest but that's how we live and we have gotten used to it
i think amanda got it right