Lately my body has been speaking to me in a new language. This is another epiphany, reality once more catching me unawares. How is it that this knowledge comes to me by revelation? If it was woven into the collective warp and weave, I have not felt its warmth. If it was there in the Grandmother silence, I did not hear the soundless message. And so I have come to it alone, and in my own time.

My bones are moving. Why am I noticing this only now, when they have almost reached the surface layer of skin? An unseen exoskeleton of me is breaking through, emerging as the years shed the familiar.

My body sings. It tells me the secret of my pulsing blood and the rushing air in my lungs. And now I know that it is an old song, and that I love it.

More do I understand the mystery that this life, my life, is, just is.

I wrote a poem about it.


The days keep company,
the years of yore unbending.
Time’s fled, sweet history,
now grain by grain descending.

You cannot keep me here,
oh weary world of other.
The wind waits patiently,
the sky, the earth, the mother.

Fire, to embers glow,
the fuel of life expending.
Another light is near,
the beckoning unending.

You cannot keep me here,
o’ weary world of other.
The wind waits patiently,
the sky, the earth, the mother.

January 11, 2014, © Maggie Turner

Worldly Distractions


Date: 4:08 PM EST Saturday 11 January 2014
Condition: Light Rain
Pressure: 98.8 kPa
Visibility: 11 km
Temperature: 4.5°C
Dewpoint: 4.2°C
Humidity: 98%
Wind: WSW 15 km/h


“I find nothing more depressing than optimism.”
Paul Fussell

[Optimism/Pessimism – a bipolar approach to philosophy.]


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