A Gift in the Making

Last night I surrendered

Allowed my fierce love to rise

Furious, bright, dangerous.

Sleep dared not approach;

hiding; elusive at the edges.

A tempestuous heart,

rattling the doors and windows.

Mirrored by leaves and branches

torn by winds, pulled by the moon.

Trembling, shaken, wild.

Deer shifted in their curved beds.

Fox stopped in his tracks; one paw raised.

Badger lifted a muddy snout to listen.

Owls, perched in the tallest sycamore

questioning: which which which whoooooo?

Fierce, like rage. But no anger

ever caused the stars to shudder

in their radiance.

No fury could illuminate

the hidden places quite like this.

This love raises mountains. Shifts glaciers.

Alters the course of rivers. Turns back oceans.

Its primal song echoes into far space

where meteors alter their course

to come closer and bear witness.

Whilst, you, my love

sleep like a great, brown bear.

The slumber of the beautiful.

The satisfied. The loved.

So tender in your dreaming.

I hold a secret at my core

that gives me steadfastness

in the midst of this uprising.

This turbulence is a gift in the making

and I am the only one who knows.

(c) Kate Gold November 2019

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash