Everywhere, not enough

Everywhere, not enough.

Everywhere, not full.

If we aren’t unhappy with this, then it’s something else.

Our minds buzzing, our hearts like scooping mud

From a lake that keeps closing onto itself.

Folding and drowning, onto itself.

Even if we desire, we cannot enjoy this

Browning avocado, its bright fleshy layer waiting underneath.

Why are avocados so difficult, we wonder?

Why is this home hot in the summer and cold in the winter?

The bees are collecting their pollen

From the wall of jasmine

You watered for weeks out on the terrace

And the lemon tree is finally sprouting.

The roses have opened their purple eyes, while somewhere,

Across the way, the neighbour is complaining

About how there isn’t enough shade.

Honey is being made all around us and the sky is open and wide for our imaginations

And yet a child, sitting in her silence, feels alone,

Afraid and begins to numb herself with whatever she can find in the pantry.

There is beauty every day

In the wonderful woods, and

The children distract themselves with screens.

 

We must seek wisdom. We can do without things, but not wisdom.

Not being.

We must have the intelligence to feel and love the world

As it present itself in every moment.

We must have the intention to feel what’s full

In the emptiness of the world.

 

Let’s admit there is honey oozing from the hive.

That there isn’t a problem once we decide there isn’t.

 

We stand at the bottom of a giant hive hanging from a mangled tree

Dripping honey over our heads.

It coats you like a blanket in the high noon heat.

To be utterly coated by the magic of small angels and open our eyes and mouth

And taste the world for what it is.

Full and dripping sweet madness.

The honey in the pantry.

Small, in plastic, gripped by a child’s hand.