SpokaneFāVS
I woke up one morning
completely dumfounded with dew.
It utterly fascinated me.
Surely I had seen dew before, or had I?
I was amazed at its inconspicuous defiance of gravity
as it silently hung from branches all around me,
Innumerable drops of water
Still
Waiting
Motionless
Poignant
Full of potential
as if holding all the mysteries of the cosmos
in one tiny ball
shimmering droplets of perfection
everywhere.
I watched as they hung in there unchanging
until perhaps the rain began to fall
and another drop of water came
and the two coalesce into one
and the weight seems to be so great
that the droplet slowly releases
as if giving birth to itself
and falls to the puddle below
Yet, there remains the drop of dew as before
and if I reach out to touch it
it effortlessly releases itself
dissolving into wetness upon my hand.
Or when I press it to my lips
in an effort to taste its sweetness
I taste nothing
Like the manna in the desert,
the dew comes anew each morning: Gift
It cannot be stored, horded, captured, or clung to
only received, relished, enjoyed.
This manna sustained the Israelites
as they wandered in the barren desert
in search of the Promised Land
It nourished them anew each day
to continue the journey
The dew, so metaphoric of the tender fragility
of each present moment
that can so easily be trampled on and destroyed
or not even noticed.
Pockets of grace
ready for the taking
if we are but Aware.
Christi Ortiz is a licensed marriage and family therapist by profession and a poet by passion. She enjoys trying to put to words to that which is wordless and give voice to the dynamic and wild spiritual journey called life. She lives in Spokane with her husband and two children, Emmanuel and Grace. She loves the outdoors and meditating in the early mornings which gives rise to her poetry.
