Like tree rings each layer

speaks of galaxies, 

as if the dusty breath of 

stars had seasons.


With your own roots trailing, 

you fold before this giant, 

murmuring weighty 

things —

it is a solemn prayer,

filled with bent and broken



As you wait for an answer 

the wind 

whistles through its fractures

so that

words fall like pebbles,

like laughter,

like leaves tickling your cheeks:


Love, there is only this — 

give way.


We are each of us rooted

in a timeless light,

unchanged by the



Play with us.


Give way to the


of unbroken things.

Yurt dweller, parent, partner, writer. Knows some things about medicine, life coaching, teaching, and the wilds.

4 Comment on “Unbroken

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