When Was The Day?

When was the day?

When was the day when I started to care,

about the grass stains on my clothes?

And when was the day I started to cringe,

At the mud marks on my toes?

When was the time I forgot all the rules,

The rules of pause, the rules of grace?

That the trees will lead you where they wish,

If they wish,

And spit you out again,

With love as firm as a mother’s steel grip.

And when did I forget that when I am lost,

I only need pause,

I only need pause, and I need only listen,

To the sound of the invisible river,

To the sound of the invisible flows.

And when did I think,

That my mind knew best,

Than the rhythms of old,

That pulse in my bones?

When did I forget to ask,

To ask the land if I may enter,

And grant to her my offerings?

They needn’t be much – just a touch, just a song, just a whisper of thanks.

And when did I forget I was held?

Held in every moment,

held with every breath,

That all I seek is within arm’s reach,

Closer, closer than my skin.

When did I start to care,

That i’d gotten spider webs stuck in my hair?

And when did I start to notice,

When the branches cut my flesh?

When the sting of a hurt became a failure,

Not a teaching,

Not a blessing,

But a sign of everything broken within?

When did I grow angry,

At the ants that bite my flesh?

Or the bugs that startle,

And the bugs that sting?

For are they not just messengers,

A reminder to look within?

When did I forget? For it is a sin to do just that.

But is the sin within the world,

Because world taught me to forget?

Or is the sin within my hands,

because I decided to believe it?