The Fall

I often wonder about the merit of sharing personal poetry. For me, writing poetry is cathartic and takes me to a deeper level in what I am experiencing I life. This one was written a week ago and for some reason wants to be shared. It is certainly not the finest artistic piece ever written and I don't want to share what it means for me, but perhaps it will speak into someone's situation out there.

The Fall

Running free across the grassland
how did she not see?
Obscured beneath the winter grass
     - untameable , wild
wild hair flowing, spinning
so distracted by the clouds above
that forgotten was the boulder beneath.
The boulder she once stood upon as a stage
for the performance of her life
heard only by industrious ants
and birds that settled awhile.

Dancing with the breeze
how did she not notice?
Lurking unseen in this broad expanse
     - seemingly harmless, familiar.
Familiar melodies hum
as she twinkles in the mysterious twilight
deaf to the rock's warning bells.
The bells whose chimes used to
keep her close, keep her safe
with invisible walls that
have become the bars of her cage.

How did she not see?
How did she not notice
     the trip...
     the stumble ...
     the imbalance ...
     the falling ...
     the thud of earth and body meeting?

The meeting of tears with dew on the bed of green.
The mingling of hair tangled in weeds.
The soaking of life's blood deep in the dirt.
She and the earth are one.

As her face turns to the sky
her eyes become deep wells
for those who thirst.
How did she not notice? How did she not see
that the stumbling block
hiding in wild grass
was merely her path to wholeness?