By Leigh-Anne Burley
Does a bird balancing on a blowing branch get seasick
like a green sailor on a gray-rolling sea?
Does a tightrope walker get dizzy on a breezy day?
Who ties and unties the knots in your stomach?
Who unites a divided mind or
mends a broken heart.
Is it left to chance, or
is there an invisible crowd
cheering on the sidelines
channeling through our trepidations.
Take my hand, rise weary one
cast your laments
into a woven basket
by the sunny seashore.
Ragged, pulsing heart
flows in and out with the rumbling tides
as your Moses basket bobs
upon the blue expanse and
the whiteness of the mourning lilies.
Sleep, my gentle one
within my bosom, bright
our tattered tomorrows
will keep for the morrow.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 