Saturday, March 14, 2015


My fine roots whispy
Slippery muddy water and silt
steady my pace
Ground me in their essence

No difference between soil and heaven
bending and blending like shifting clouds
and darting schools of fish in turquoise water

My stalk is segmented
Not in the way of an etching or tearing points
but one lifts the other higher and at the same time
pulls the other tenderly downward

We clump together and spread breath and height
not within our own bodies but within our Oneness

Bending, limping, sprouting and dying into our shelled empty cores

There is no loss
There is no gain
It happens because We are bamboo
Resilient, flexible , true to our own nature

I am bamboo because of You, because of We