Murmuration – her small voice rising like a brand new day

her small voice rising -
18 months old, beginning to find her voice, arising spontaneously from space
her innate wisdom, a flock of freshly hatched words, rising

Murmuration

her small voice rising

in the dark above the bars

of the crib, a morning

murmuration

beginning, spinning, rising

a flock of freshly hatched words

still translucent and damp

where did she come from?

this spontaneous consciousness

this ascending double helix

of intelligence – pulsating, spiraling

wave upon brilliant wave

of innate wisdom, elaborating

her sweet song, a spark

radiating across the unending space

of possibility, coming now

to crack open the darkness

like a star

like the first soft light

of a brand new day

© 2021 jafink/oldbonesnewsnow.com

the language of stones

 

I’ve heard it said that “words can only point to a feeling…”

can we ever really hear each other?

 

stones-stream-language

the language of stones

 

if I slip a word

beneath your door

could you read it?

 

stones

upon the shore, count

the skips one, two, three – more

then silence.

 

we hurtle

past each other

such a brief intersection

yet two lives may still

make a plane

 

walk with me

this weathered shore

and we might learn again

 

this language of stones.

one, two, three – more

then silence, dark waters,

winds and waves,

 

this hard, hard  knowing

before words.

 

 

© 2015 jafink/oldbones.newsnow.com