When the flower revealed herself.

Nowhere better can you understand the precious vulnerability of life than in the desert.

Many cacti flower for just one day. It is magical to be able to see the gift of their bloom knowing how rare it can be.  Some cacti endure 30 years of life in the desert before yielding their first flower, and then, just like that, after one day, she fades. Lucky is he or she who stills long enough to recognize this rare occurrence.

The first time I peered into a flower’s universe, she revealed herself. I discovered life in her most glorious form; took a breath, and finally understood.

Life sets her own pace, we have no control over her. The only thing we can do is embrace her fully, for however long she chooses to bloom.  Let us admire and recognize the full worth of every being that comes into our lives; be in awe of their existence, for like the flower of a cactus, they may be gone before we can recognize the beauty they brought into our lives.

What a painful and beautiful experience it is to observe a spirit transition to its next life, and to feel the intensity of life as it is juxtaposed with death.  For what is life, if not but the beautiful expression that is created from understanding and accepting her impermanence.

In memory of every beautiful being I have had to let go of.

Anza14

I. Am. Afraid. of Cities.

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I am afraid of cities,

all jagged and hard,

blades of concrete

leaving dreams

mutilated and scarred.

 

Where concrete legos scrape

the sky

only to show us

our place is where

the asphalt lies.

 

I am afraid of cities

where trees turn into

light posts and

sky into peep holes

reminding us God

once existed.

 

Where walls turn

into labyrinths,

keeping us confused

and distorted,

and silence is drowned

by sounds that rumble,

and honk and pierce, 

unnaturally persistent.

 

I am afraid of cities where

street lights distract us from

dreaming,

from the stars,

and the stem

of a crack pipe

is more familiar than

the stem of a rose.

 

Where women are asphyxiated

by back alley blow jobs,

and the earth

cracks the sidewalks open

for some air.

 

I am afraid of cities,

with their paper work 

and forms, long lines

and waiting rooms,

cubicles and punch-in 

clocks, rubber stamps

and guards that loom.

 

I am afraid of cities,

financial corrals

where humanity lives for

paychecks, and money

is always scarce. 

 

Where life is erased

by calculated numbers,

law and order is more sacred

than people,

and time rubs us

raw. 

 

But I am more afraid

of living afraid, 

so I plant my bare feet,

solid, on the ground,

let the sun rays shine

sturdy, on my face and

catch the wind as it whispers,

“You matter.”