Ellen Marie Metrick is a poet, writer, performance Artist, dreamer,
partner and seeker, living on Wright's Mesa near the old
Ute trail above Naturita Creek.
Her current paid writing work is as editor and journalist for The Norwood Post.
Today, the meadowlarks
For Japan, in spring
Imagine
You wake up
And the whole sky is
Blown open
The roof gone.
You had plans today.
But there goes the car
On a wave of
Someone else’s plans, and now —
Now, the whole house is moving
Around you
Nothing any longer
Stands still
Except you.
You, for this moment
With your feet planted
In full meeting with
The concrete earth;
This earth
That so far
Has been here every day
In your waking, and
In your sleep.
And now,
Imagine
That this end, this absolute destruction decimation disheveled black sky water dawn
Imagine that this is you
Waking up
And getting a second
Chance.
In fact, imagine everyone around you
Receiving the same gift, a second chance,
At the same time
Waking up at last.
What will all of you
Do
With this gift?
Some, even today, as grim and gristled and splintered as it is,
Some will keep their eyes shut tight
And complain
About the collapsed peaks, the houses washed out to sea,
The plans.
But you
And even some of those
Close to you
And some
You will never know
You and they
Are beyond sleep.
As hard as it is
To walk when the earth
Is all buckle and bow beneath you,
The sky blowing above and around;
As heartbreaking
To see the sleepwalkers
Falling into the caverns
welcoming them into
the closing earth;
As blinded as you are
By the tears
Washing out the grit of regrets —
You are simply done
With once upon,
And are Here.
You, and the others, are here
Opening your arms,
Welcoming and holding the found
Children,
Waiting to hear the songs
That will lead you into spring,
As tonight, at my house, in my pasture,
The meadowlarks
Are announcing their arrival
In a multitude of tremors.
Ellen Marie Metrick ~ March 17,2011