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Hello and welcome to my blog formerly called Gypsy-K. Please note that I am only updating this blog while I am walking from Rome to Jerusalem from September 2015. My online home and permanent blog is at www.kymwilson.com.au. You can also sign up for pilgrim postcards and newsletters here. Thank you for being here and supporting my journey. With love and courage, Kym xx

Sunday, 21 October 2012

A poem: Over night the roses bloomed


Over night the roses bloomed
or maybe it was yesterday
when I was at work
high above the city streets.
Busy,
in a surreal world of emails and tasks.
Forgetful,
my back to the natural world.
Outside,
the cumulus clouds float over the bay.
The silvery sheen of the perfectly flat pool
carries tankers and ferries out of port
into the terrors of the strait
as I have seen before.

And I rushed home
without really looking
into the sea of tired and blank faces
also anxious to avoid connecting with mine.
In a hurry to leave again
I rushed out the door
seeking only the silver key to lock the gate
then the thick plastic rim of the key to unlock and start the car,
eyes and mind fixed on the next moment in time.
Not here.

Only now,
in the slowness of morn
as I peer out through the parted shutters
I realize that I missed it,
the miracle
occurring
or that had occurred
when I was sleeping
or rushing
or earning my living.
I missed the moment
when beauty was born
and I can’t get it back.

On Monday morn
I admired the pending peach blooms
still bound and furled
but burst through the tight green fists
that hid them from view.
Today,
only four days past,
their soft arms stretched out wide.
Open,
giving all their beauty.
Open,
offering all they have
to the sun,
to this day,
and to all those rushing past
with eyes gazing upward
in a heady world of oblivion
just like me.
Open,
offering so much that they can open no more
and their core already fading,
peach to apricot to lemon to white,
edges curling and wilting.
Soon death will come.
The ground will beckon
and they will fall
to return to the earth
and begin again.

I am envious of these flowers.
Of a life spent
in complete giving
asking nothing in return
and honoring the call
deeply,
fully,
joyously.
I wish I had been here
instead of there
to bear witness
to that moment
they first unleashed their love
upon the world
as I now bear witness to their life
and death.


Our garden's spring roses (iphone photo)



Our garden's spring roses





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