The Way Home (insight)
ancestral poetry for finding insight
It’s a long way home
Drowning at midnight
Bubbles rising
Like falling stars.
Pouring into mountains
Made of rainbows and myth
Medicine songs and deaths
Like baptismal steps.
Into the abyss I go.
Descend to Ascend
Disciples to the Mother
to the moss underfoot
like climbing roots.
The branches grow around me
a cage or perhaps a cave
a womb space
like a butterfly returning to chrysalis.
Reverse the inverted
Chronological unwind
of Intertwined existences
like eternal space with no finite time.
Stop watching life
As the river pass you by
Even salmon swim upstream
Like an early moon rise
It’s a long way home
if you don’t have a light
And the silence is loud
Like the jungle at night
By walking in darkness
you find it’s inside.
Turn around, tell others
Like a box of matches you strike.
Illuminating the world
Starting from behind
When everything’s upside down
Look within -not what’s in sight.
About the Creator
Lauren Pacione
i am an ecotherapist, poet, ceremonialist, and author. i work with plant medicine and offer healing, retreats and teacher training within 100 mi of NYC. IG @laurenpacione.etc
pre-order my book wayofthetrees.com
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall5 days ago in Fiction
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