Just broad whacks 
we take swinging 
against the tree
or wind or
odds convinced that 
we can fell
fall or break 
until arms weak
and back sore
we pick up 
the little bits 
and whittle what
we want from 
what’s left over 

We tend to 
hold and clutch 
but life just 
like death is
about letting go 
learning and trusting 
that there is 
something well beyond 
what we know 
and believe about 
any of this 

What is over 
is over and 
what is done 
is done there’s 
no going back 
or asking for 
any more time 
for those things 
along with everything 
else already happened 
belongs to dust 
and to memory 

Some roots though 
shallow bring water 
whilst others burrow 
deeper to find 
some say deeply 
provides more security 
but I find 
my balance at
being at ground
and stretching out 
towards many others 

I remember once 
wading into and
sitting down in
a lazy river 
at first content
I felt a 
pull like something 
unseen was beckoning 
though nothing heard
I did go 
the way of 
of its flow 
and finally found 
my sacred ground