A Real Life Descent Poem

The seasonal transition from autumn into winter marks the time of descent in many cultural myths. It is the period in the Western hemisphere in which we are called by the cycles of nature to physiologically, psychologically, and metaphysically turn inward. It is a time of closing in, of reconsidering, of re-calibrating and re-adjusting as we contemplate our actions and our reactions to the events of our lives over the past year. For our European ancestors this was the season of preparing for winter, for harvesting the last crops, and of culling the herds. This season was when our ancestors had to look death directly in the face.

Spiritually, this season is also the prime moment to transform the self, to shift our consciousness into editing what we choose to experience. In other words, the environment is auspicious, the time is right, and the tide is in, for one to make necessary navigational changes to one’s life path. I got a health scare yesterday so I am knee deep in this process. Here is my poem in response. Bless all sentient beings!

 

Pressure

Yesterday a wake up

Call is what you call it

My heart pumping too fast

I know that and it’s giving me headaches

I am told by one Dr to go to another Dr

I cry and slog forth

The day turns and I am defiant or

Perhaps accepting of the fact that

Death looms

That is the big fear

But I am not afraid of death

I know, from my half century of life

That any death that is final would be a gift

A snuffing out of consciousness, like a candle

Whose light is put out and there is the reward of

Oblivion and no more responsibility

But no we don’t get that

We only get regrets in a place without a body

That we did not try harder, for me it’s harder

Though I am kind

I attempt every day to wake up present

To a world that is a carnival

 I attempt every night to wake up in a dream

And fly. I really like to fly in my dreams I really

Like to fly

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