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FLUENT IN BLOOMING

“I want to be fluent in Blooming.

I want to trust the possibility…”

that out of chaos, beauty;

Out of sadness, deepened joy.

 

I want to be fluent in blooming.

I want to know what it’s like to FLOW;

To be in a predictable

Growing groove.

 

I want to be fluent in allowing…

Allowing new buds to form, new flowers to unfurl,

New seeds to sprout,

Trusting that in this transition season

I am becoming fluent in blooming.

Blooming with what is.

Rather than bracing, hardening, and resisting

what has unfolded,

I want to stay curious, as if a packet of

Wild flowers has been carefully tossed into

the prepared soil of my life,

and now I’m waiting to see

what might bloom in this season.

 

I want to be fluent in blooming

Listening to the sun, to the rain, to the soil

Of my own particular life-space;

Noticing what is wanting to bloom here,

Wanting to ‘push through the earth’

And say hello.

Less a master, and more a servant

to what pushes through.

 

I want to be fluent

In surrendering to what is popping open.

I want to trust the possibility…

of tending and crosspollinating in new ways:

New hybrids of flowers arriving to

dance and spread and root down in

Together.

 

I want to become

FLUENT in blooming.

This is my spiritual practice.

  ~ Marcella


Today's poem prompt from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer's poem: “Like the Peony” https://ahundredfallingveils.com/?s=The+peony

 

Today’s prompt:

“…I want to be fluent in blooming.                                                                                                  I want to trust the possibility…”

What might YOUR poem be...with this prompt? Feel free to share a line in response to this prompt or a whole poem!

ree

 
 
 

1 Comment


When my childhood reached into my crone years and took the sun from me

I found the forest

I found the way the dance of the leaves allowed glimpses of the sun

I found the voice of trees, and the flowers that like me now, prefer the shade.

I saw how the grass moved in greeting me

The sun seems to speak in loud tones demanding attention

The forest speaks softly in whispers beckoning me to listen fully.

The scents that fill the air are green smells that seem to dry up if the sun touches them.

I have always loved the sun. I loved the feel of it as it ripples across my skin. I love the dry, sandy…

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