For my sisters

I couldn't sleep much, so ...

Tremble Lemuria

I do not tremble before a tsunami dragon,
Despite awesome breath and rearing head and chaotic rage.
Nay, for Mother Earth did but shrug her weary shoulders,
And quite predictably flicked off a noisome gnat or two –
As is her right, and call perhaps to a song unheard.

I choose not to tremble before a swirling wind,
Though I may weep for those unprepared for what they know.
It may well be that the Tengri is called to be herald
To the dynamics of lost faith and humanity,
Made apparent in man's incompetence and greed.

Yet, I tremble before the simplest acts of kindness,
Stroked again by intuitive trust in basic love --
The oh so ready hand that can reach out and open,
Were they not constrained in stuffed shirts and silk purses,
And fear that charity will be punished or rebuked.

Why does it take a disaster, even one self imposed,
For many to grasp that all are one in finality,
And that the simple sharing of bread and water and salt
Has nothing to do with religion or practiced rite,
But a suppressed hunger for kindness to ourselves.

Tremble not my children as sisters proclaim open hearts
And ancient mem’ries tickle your soul’s yearning balance.
Never, for they are the conduits of Currents and Wings
That weave man’s intent into a tapestry of creation
That surely answers, “Yes!” to a trumpeting of stardust.

Yet tremble! -- tremble, weep and scatter beyond reasoned fear
In the path of whispered simple words of offered kindness,
For truth knows only sunshine and compassion asks no fee.
No one can accept the invite that living offers thee,
But hand in hand we can dance and be what we might be.

Every fiber of my being trembles in sympathy,
Responding to a plucked string and ever present song,
Called 'even as you do to the least of me' or other --
And in the sunlight following the sinking of Lemuria
I know that I too 'am the least' and in need of love.