24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
In this short bio, my every breath.
My hands speak to the sky.
The sky sees my hands as swallows,
lifting me in forget-me-not
lightness.
I will press the birds of my hands
into holy Earth when she whispers
“Share your burdens.”
My throat will send my voice
to the Choir of Ancients, where we will sing,
big as Love.
Our Song — flower and falcon,
newt and fruit and sky and I,
are blessing all the world
right this very instant, and you,
just sitting there, you!
are a vital part of this
benediction.
J. Pratt-Walter, © 8/5/201
For the introvert, the harvest
of spoken syllables is
meager.
Go on, ask a friend
for her spare
words. Ask your husband;
he doesn’t know how to be
quiet.
Ask yourself “Is this garden really
worth it?”
I assure you, it is. Dig down.
Friends and husbands are fine,
but your garden of thoughts can feed
the hungering world.
J. Pratt-Walter, © 8/5/2017
The Bird of Plenty
has flown from this house.
Nowhere can you hear
her orange song like syrup
in your ears.
Tomorrow, say the right prayers
and call her back, prayers being
selfless deeds you give
the world
from the ache in
your hinterland heart.
J. Pratt-Walter (c) 2017
Creatures of the Earth,
with breath and heart and mind,
teach us to see
beyond just humankind:
We are all One.
Jennifer Pratt-Walter
© 8/2017
Where water lays down her life
to the pulling air,
where stone succumbs to
the laughing river,
where the oxygen yields to
the latent life of wood afire,
where the micobes’ anthems
unrivet my still body:
This is where I will give over
my burden of Being –
Not in light, but in the embracing
of shadows.
May this be the
Going-Back Bridge to
the mystery
of the Mystery.
J. Pratt-Walter (c) 2017
Even at the beginning
of beginning,
as you step onto that wide
strand, the ending
walks beside you.
