Breathe and Run . . .

 

Run

Something is chasing us.

Is it a powerful virus called Corona?
Is it anxiety turned to
cruelty stripping the supermarket shelves?
Is it fear turned to arguments
on the public transport when someone coughs?

We aren’t we worrying more
about what are we running towards?

Can we take a deep breath and run towards it stripped
of anxiety and fear
naked of ego and selfishness?

Can we clothe ourselves in
the discoveries we will make?
Remember to breathe
to take in with compassion the fear and despair
to understand these feelings

breathe them out into kindness
into a sense that everyone of us has the power to give
and do things,
swap seeds, give away excess
heal each others scars
after the virus has run its course.

How many can we take with us as we run?
How many of us will fall?
How many, ashamed finally,
will share the seedlings and goods
they stripped the nurseries and supermarkets of or
admit that we threw teachers and hairdressers
under the bus in pursuit
of economy and beauty.

I knew when the cyclone would end.
I saw the green leaves return in the rainforest
one by one.
Now the lines of unemployed cascade down the streets
and a sense of a modern day depression is born
and Bindi is our Shirley Temple
she marries her beloved without wedding guests.

And now we must  breathe
run
breathe ourselves into
the light.

(c) June Perkins

Ancient Modern

Reflecting on ancient and modern legacies and wondering what they will be?

Ripple Poetry

(I)

In the seventies

old souls with young faces

went looking for revolutions’ places

found heroes called Bob Dylan

looked in music for something

more than melody

danced with metaphors deep

and blue.

Now young souls with old faces

say, ‘Who on earth was he?’

and one wonders is there any

such thing as

legacy

to the old and young set in stone

are they open to change?

When will young faces have

young souls

and old souls have old faces

Or is it all a dreamer’s mask?

And a distraction to the true task

as we all face the fading of our bones.

To live the poet’s life

let the words

find the souls they belong to

doesn’t matter old or young

look beyond the face

listen to wisdom from every voice

keep alive the questioning of youth

and in the silence after sing

the open door.

(c June…

View original post 9 more words