Paths are made fortuitous by diligent hearts.
Serve the humble path like the bee who serves the hive and loves the flowers.
Go to the deepest breathing place and tell her, how you long for paths of connection.
She’s filled with promise and sometimes duality.
Be carried across thresholds of your making.
Return to the universe, forces are strong.
They wait for you to come undone so that doing isn’t so hard.
Paths sing in celestial bodies.
Resonance is found on shores kissing caves and oceans.
We are made to cross over the hours we create and past the valour, we seek.
No one loves us the way we love ourselves.
The seeker is seeking themselves.
Now is the time to return to all we are.
All we can be.
All we are made to be.
There is no loss in tiny hearts.
Only grand feelers understand the depths and currents of seas.
Return to me and I promise to return to you.
Inscribe these words on the tablets and scrolls of eternity, and so it is written:
We belong to the universe. We belong to each other.
Hearts flooded with confluence and response-ability, no one passes on without the tender and tremendous pulse of drumbeats.
Heartbeats.
Come together, mend broken promises and forgottenness about how we matter.
Mattering is the bare minimum in a universe where I love you and miss you, even though you live next door.
When I come back with a belly full of stars and a sore throat from retching up all the poison my ancestors forced you to swallow; please, please meet me at the intersection.
We will blend our medicine and make the biggest woza woza ball ever made!
Cars will wait as we roll our intentions together and then light enough incense to reach the stars.
All will be protected by its smoke.
Love’s momentum finds renewal in streams and rivers, bays and springs.
The world needs our medicine.
Keep strong and brittle too.
Dive into the shallow parts where minnows nibble and small crabs burrow.
We can surface more than mess and pain.
The need to be safe, loved, caressed, followed, remembered and dilated is simple in this unheard-of birthing place where young and old are born anew.
Wherever you sleep on the globe, the stars know us equally.
I love you, I always have.
Even when no names are given and territories are unmentioned.
Oh, how we belong to each other: limbs, throats, words and deeds.
Can we return now to this place of belonging?
It has been too long since we held each other and remembered kinship.
Stars! Hear me now! I belong to you!
Soils, you too!
Plasma moves quickly through the veins of forever and reaches the pulse of remembering.
We are here!
We cannot stop loving each other!
We belong together in these hearts made of stars.
Breath in air made of prayers and wishes.
All I want is to remember you, how the moon kisses your chin even when you don’t look at her.
I have not forgotten.
I have not forgotten.
I have not forgotten.
Photo of Aurora Borealis from my window Oct. 10th, 2024. West Kootenays, BC.
©Rebecca Rogerson, 2024
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