Read Poem: I Am Listening, Are You?, by Roanne Legg

I am listening.
Are you listening?
I am listening.
Can you hear the trees, the shuffle and hiss
can you smell the scent, the sage lets go
in the rain.
Can you smell this, the out-of-doors,
this earth that holds all that we know
do you touch this planet with your feet,
without shoes, do you stand on the dirt or rock
and squeeze it with your toes, do you?
Do you let go this moment and feel
see and smell,
and let that contain you,
without anything else. Do you let it all go for a moment,
and take a step into this future, and then let it go
and look around, and see the sky change.
The blue into indigo into black
your shoulders drop, your heart shrinks
into its cavern of soul
and rest
do you give this moment up, without waiting for the next?
do you take advantage, of this earth
without shortcutting, without guns or motorized vehicles
do you give yourself to the mountains
the air, the depth and height
do you squeeze your fists and bow your head and let tears
gently slide down your cheeks
because it is unfair, life is unfair
we cannot live simply
do you remember we once did, and do you know
where we came from?
does your past lead and does your future support
and does this moment get forgotten amidst
the leaves of your destructive mind
and in that suspension, are their pieces of light
forgiving your absence of integrity
of self worthiness
of hard work where hands are reaching hesitant
immature, that responsiveness is the essence
the cure the destruction, the change.
That is our purpose,
that is our quest, to be what we are.
That is the decision. The epitaph
invisibly tattooed in your heart,
I see it in your eyes.
Longing to be recognized, you
remember so you can forget
your shadow will remind
let it go, let it go, let it go!
Your light, that light, the light
The light. It cannot fade
no matter how much you neglect and abuse,
no matter how much you fight.
I am the opponent and I see core,
I see the essence and you cannot fool me.
You, are the one I have been looking for.
You are hiding and I have found you.
You were never lost.
You, are the flame, waiting for the rain.
You are on the stage, you are performing
you have been chosen.
Are you listening?
Are you?
Can you tell if I am?
Do you notice things. People. Places, situations?
Is your coil tight around your waist
and does it bulge, does that impatience
slip and fall and drip over the edges of your reality
and does this scene, bother you?
We are the makers, the keepers, the penetrators.
We make the decision to change.
We have created what we look at.
We are in control.
Let go. Let go. Let go!
It will not fall apart. I know,
because the mountains told me.
Patience is disturbing.
It recalls the voice, the voice
of the ancients. Are you listening?
I am. Join me, let this be our religion,
our meal, our dream.
Let this be the letter waiting,
let this be the broth
your blood is nourished by.
Let this remind, that simple, is the breath.
Follow it. Follow it. Follow it!

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest