Ode To Interdependence

By

Ernest Lowe

Ode to interdependence

. . . In a time of troubles

 

There was a time when we knew

our connections

crisscrossing the luminous sky

the waters flowing through us

on their way home to the sea .

 

Was it a form of loving kindness

even when we ate our enemies brains?

 

The shamen curanderos witches

traced the lines flowing through us

from worms in the living soil

out to constellated stars.

 

Our eyes focused softly

as we walked woodland trails

listening for a deer dance through dry leaves

praying appreciation for his gift to our family.

 

We knew we were our connections

remembering with lucid mushrooms,

cactus caps, and the venom of toads.

 

Families of Syrian migrants

trek along my vestigial wing

one dazed young man chanting

La il’allah il’aha

“Sorry bro,” I regret to say

“we’ve got no more room

in this vestigial heart.”

 

Look here!

May I be blest

to soothe these blistered feet!

May I be blest

to gaze into these wind-dried eyes!

May I be blest

to kiss these parched lips!

 

May I so welcome my new neighbor!