Warrior Poet Mental Yoga 85

Independence Day Redux

This Independence Day

I did not clench the wheel nor my jaw

in seeking the best parking space

in search

of the seemingly perfect spot

of view

to glance up at the spectacle of fireworks

whilst discounting the quiet undeniable glory

of the pin-pricked backdrop of blue and black

heavens.

I did not raise my hand to wave a flag amongst the ranks of others.

I did not don a flag as my shield, my shroud, my burka, or my colors of excuse.

I did not devour a gelatin dessert decorated in stars n’ stripes and coated in the colors of red, white and blue.

I did not stand in a herd of hundreds or a throng of thousands

and parade about as a humanity content with ignoring all else

even the scorch of a big hard sun

  so that I might behave in the numb contentment

of an illogical and unaware number.

This Independence Day,

I

slept close to the ground

in

the arms of my beloved

listening

to the sounds

of the rain and water

flowing

over rocks.

I

noticed

my muscles, my bones, and my joints

every time

I awakened in the dark

and 

such feeling satiated my soul.

I

walked

through the mist

in the seclusion of an old growth forest

and

learned the names and shapes and colors and textures

of

some of what grew about:

Dutchman’s-pipe

Rattlesnake Plantain

Witch-hazel

Rhododendron

Crimson Bee-balm.

I

took the time to contemplate

a snail

and

the silly frolicking flights of a multitude of inebriated butterflies.

I

opened my arms

and

embraced

a tree

larger than any I had ever beheld;

a

primordial and majestic

Tulip Poplar

and

felt a deep ache within my heart

that such trees

such things

have been

warped and twisted and plundered into rarities

into

exceptions

into

extinctions.

I

stood

and

was kindled

within

the showering spray and discarded droplets

 of Ramsey’s coltish and chaotic cascade.

On this Independence Day

I

was

independent

of

the constructed madness and distraction

that has become accepted and promoted

as the

“celebratory norm”

of

existence

and

that will

if allowed

drive and compel us

to yield and default

to our unaware autopilot

prompting such confusion

 that we forget

before too terribly long

we

will all

once again

be

nothing but

food for the Poplars.

Jody Bryan and Jeff Cribb

2015

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