Muddy beginnings

In the sun I pick twigs buried in the mud of a hundred days’ rain

They rest as minute dams across the torrent’s path.

As I lift each branch the brown earth 

Glistens, grips and pulls and sucks

As though a magnet against my hand

Holding to the moment and yet knowing that the next rain will sweep it away

To a new stay, a new twig.

Stones seem indifferent and turn their backs to their fellow travellers’ plight

Bigger rains might come but they may still hold firm

Awaiting greater force and greater might.

As we pick up the pieces of our history

Fresh waters come and clear away the silt

Moving thoughts and feelings to new terrain

Yet unknown and therefore primed with fears

But the challenge is to wait for the new waters

That will sweep our bones to other havens of love and joy

With a swinging arc I lift the branches and hurl them into a sun-filled sky.

And a new beginning.