spiritual language poetry & writings

a mamaist ars poetica

 

 

In my black sleep a voice says, “Change your feet.”

And I do.

Then it says, “Change your hands.”

And I do.

Then it says, “Change your legs.”

And I do so.

Then, “Change what is small. Change what is big.”

And I do that too.

Then, “Change what is near. Change what is far.”

And without hesitation I do.

And when at last the voice says, “Change your heart.”

in that moment it’s as if I hear

a ‘click’ and suddenly everything is falling

into place at the same time as

 

>