beato

Today was my birthday.

I walked. I walked down a trail this morning lined on one side with acres of wild flowers growing on rolling soft hills. There were so many bees. I heard them like a groan, like a great low buzz. I thought the sound was in my head. A fly flew by close to my face and it was so big it sounded like a helicopter overhead.

I walked into the field of wildflowers. They came up to my armpits. I thought of Persephone and I waited for the earth to open up and for Hades to come and take me into the underworld.  I waked right into a ring of red robins that flew and hopped in concentric circles around me, singing.

Sometimes, if you walk long enough, you can walk something, or someone, right out of you. You can walk yourself clean. My mother says some people are like dry land. And dry land will keep you forever in a way that fertile land never will: with the promise of growth that never comes. Always, with the promise.

Today something broke open inside of me. Wide enough for me to let go. Wide enough to tell the truth, out loud. With no one listening but the robins and the bees and the great big flies. And that is enough. 

Vulture 4/6/10 Lucy Madeline Ojai, CA

There are so many stars in the sky. And when the sun sets, it burns so bright and so pink it leaves a stain on the horizon forever. 

I’m tired. I’m going to see what my dreams have for me tonight. And what tomorrow will bring. 

I found something today, something great and something meaningful. I found the truth, I found the answer or maybe the question or the secret. And the secret was silent and could not be spoken so it poured from my eyes and whispered prayers between my lips. 

I am going to tell a story.

Birthday Walk 4/6/10 Lucy Madeline Ojai, CA