It tempts us with spring
we reach for it.
It is the dream within
we see it.
It gives us voice
we speak it.
It shows us our path
we walk it.
It is in the feathered arms
of an all seeing mother
we trust
and the traditions
she keeps inside.
It is her vision
that prompts our doing
and her yolk-kept-rituals
that instruct our conduit.
It is her body that is crucified
to have her babies
and it is her milk
they hunger for.
It is the seed from each egg
that spawns a truth.
that what we incubate
for just a time
has its moment
to be alive.
And what arrived
in a courteous loop
breaks free
of its bind
to find its place
outside.
It is the sound
of our own hearts beating
and our breath
that bleeds with the night.
“Stave off this light
the darkness calls
“it’s all we’ve known
our whole life.”
“But to be curled
in a circle,
and never to ask
what’s beyond this rind ?”
the Inner Fire prods this time
and conceives
the dream to happen;
it is to pray
to learn, to teach
to divine the art of sky in a reach
to rest, to play
to birth, to die
and only rendered
in the escape of its shell.
It is the egg
from which we hatch
and its yolk is the spill
that prepared the heart
to develop the mind.
It is the crack
that emits a light,
the life of the Inner Fire
triggers the heart to sense;
a vibration in the ear
a song on the tongue
a passionate eye
a contagious heat
that lights the heart it torches
it awakens the soul
and walks the path
with its finder.
It is the Inner Fire
that ignites the surrender
and the purpose of all creation;
to full fill the dream within.
Within each of the eight knots in this painting, I painted as egg shells over eight people, there was a crack in each one ,
resembling various different human gestures, italicised in this poem about how we run from our fear of failure.
LauraLee K. Harris
