You do not know until you are already there.
Nothing the Papers will report.
Just the ordinary miracle that is your Life.
© jillosburn 2017
Nothing the Papers will report.
Just the ordinary miracle that is your Life.
© jillosburn 2017
You do not know until you are already there.
Nothing the Papers will report. Just the ordinary miracle that is your Life. © jillosburn 2017
0 Comments
I will wake tomorrow and see it differently.
Doesn't mean it wasn’t always as it is. It lasts forever, but not in the way we think. Can I let go in order for it to live? It was always alive, it just needed to be born. Now it is. We call it a moment in time, But it is eternity. © jillosburn 2016 My prayers have become bile.
I wonder about the intercession from groans. My groans have dissipated into acid. Bile has become the place of communion. I don’t know what bile speaks to God, but the primordial fluid is intervening for me today. I taste it. The bitter burn is the prayer. I trust my body speaks and knows what cannot be contained in the stanzas of a dirge. © jillosburn 2016 Sinew: A piece of tough fibrous tissue uniting muscle to bone, or bone to bone... We all have those days. Today is not one of those days. Today, the very cradle of Life... All Life Is producing the tissue and sinew that will be under the flesh. Not born from the will of the body, Nor certainly not from the will of man But from the very Spirit that is the one who sustains the fire so she can speak to the one that turns and looks. © jillosburn 2016 Happiness with life. Equal with the longings. The concrete. We lived with it surrounding our Space as if it were the natural landscape. It eviscerates. Creates space for the mingling. Word-evading surrender I flow into gratefulness. Met with the longing that has its own elemental weight. After falling down the Space, the particles of each mix. They become what we breath. Surprised to find them filling the same lungs. At the same time. Would we know if either were fully satisfied? Or would that be the end of the life? © jillosburn 2016 And who are you?
How can I come to know you? From those who only know what they are told without ever paying attention? You are actually who they avoid. Knowing you is like creating true art. Risky. Un-welcome. But, as the top of the flame burns a hole in the cloth The Heart burns hot. The glow is warm from a distance Exposing the contours and veins. You appear and reveal. Not At All what I have been told but, I find you are dangerous. You are with. I am not scared, but called to stand my ground. Mutual challenge that only comes from mutual respect. In my world, you are not a cozy lap. © jill osburn 2015 I keep on the sand made solid by man. not the sand that is therapy for feet i have no need to venture there i do not walk out not because i can’t I don’t run or marvel at you the way i imagine others do You are different for me You are the unnoticed backdrop to it all nothing special or novel about you uncomprehending those that are in love, You were always there I do not need to run to you because you are in me Growing in your proximity, i do not know the gorging on the starvation of lack of being with. Trips West do not illicit The Amazement We have an understanding i did not know until now. © jillosburn 2015 We are facing an evil. Not the kind that shows up in the Orange season the kind that lives inside. It is fear. What is the difference? We wax eloquently “Be ye not afraid” the Book is filled with such commands What if you can’t help but be afraid? What if you exist on fear? What do They fear? The womb? Ah...yes...the power that lies in the place of Life. What happened that we began to think that we could adjudicate what we desire? When did we lose touch with and want more than we need? How did we separate from our Mother and begin active hate towards her? Those who have never wondered if they could, if they were able... They are legislating. They are blind to wonder. Never had to question themselves. Walking upon the streets of gold. Blaming those who have no other path, but slogging through the slurry from the gold they mined. Those that have never had to check their surroundings. Consider before walking alone. Call a friend… “If you don’t hear from me by…” Unable to imagine the mud-slide climb of another. Power is held. Questions unasked. They continue unconscious condescension, rising up to shush their conscience. It knows the depths of the disease. They don’t consider the care of the infant. Their bodies will never be food. Fear seeps from the top. Fear of losing the reins. To go against is necessary death ...one or the other… If there was porousness, the integrity would not hold. Only by naming it can it be vanquished. Abdicating responsibility to a GOD that is a construct of White-man. Reject transcendence. She is among the people. Jill Osburn - 10.27.2015 A hard-earned letting-go. The hating. The denying. The suffocation of the soul. Confused by the un-gained ground. The delayed notices of deaths, the exclusion from funerals and wills did not confound enough to abandon the attempt. All the questions... they remained, but were never satisfied. In the deep, the Woman spoke. The ancient tale illuminated as her own. Mistaken for what she could never be, the path is now taken without guilt. Jill Osburn - 4 September 2015 Older than ancient, the sphere of dust glows beyond the trees. Science allowed us congratulations to know you. Before there was the closeness of magnified seeing, and the treading of hubris, there was mysterious knowledge. Your Waxing. Your Waning. Your relationship with the tides and our bodies. Cycling us through a rhythm we no longer have time for. Jill Osburn - 25 July 2015 |
Archives
June 2017
Categories
|