Guttural cry rumbling up from the depths of my belly, feet planted firmly on the earth, I see you, and I stand my ground.
Pearls of sweat on my skin, heat rolling under the surface, chills tracing every inch, tingling at the base of my sacrum into all the soft spots that want to run.
I stand my ground.
The earth shakes, clouds rolling, thundering in, threatening to drench the day and all that came before…washing it all away. Pins and needles prickling on the top of my head, as if I’ve invaded an ant hill…upset the yellow jackets from their hiding place… to wake me up again.
Winds on the mountains, floods in the plains, speakers blasting sounds and elephants shaking the ground, I AM THAT I AM.
This world is yearning for…I Am. The particles will vibrate, old stories at stake, the comfort of what has been shakes as I stand my ground.
Bulldozers have done their work, and carpenters too. Sometimes I am both…we must prune in response to our watering.
There is a Truth, unshaken, unbroken, unmistaken. It makes sounds, sings songs, says things that don’t always get applause, nestles in arms that by become nature's jaws, and still, I stand my ground.
The kernel within, I Will grow a tree. Strong, aged with seasons’ decree of a brighter day having passed this way. The central fire shall never go out…this heart that burns through anguishing drought to be added unto again by the streams that will flow and the blessings we come to know.
The wind breaths me, furious and refreshing, as still, I stand my ground.