Mar 12, 2013

A Poem for Spring by Gabrielle Worley

When I walk
I can feel that we are too heavy
Quietly, the earth bends her back
Beneath the weight of things
Too weary to watch
As men cast their fishing lines into sky
Shove stars into pockets
Steal and sell
What is left of her

 Men have captured waters
And winds
Drawn lines across forests and mountains and deserts
War is so simple
And so loud

Listen
The ground is trying to breathe again

 Overhead, birds flap into formation
And the monarch is on its way home
A fluttering mass of delicate orange wings

 The frozen lake moans and opens itself up
fields forgive the fire
and the heavy snow
and the farmer

This is where God’s order may be seen
not in highways and laws and currency
but in the things we haven’t touched

In our willingness to collapse
So that the body may be rebuilt
with something stronger

 There is nothing wrong with breaking
With turning up palms to find
that your hands are empty

This is where the wildflowers grow
Where we can hear the wind coming
before we can feel it
and we begin to see God
everywhere