Insight is critical. It’s the ability to understand humans and situations—deeply and intuitively—seeing through the lens of discernment and awareness, opening not only our minds but also our larger world consciousness.

When we view life—both the minutiae and the giant, loud “can’t miss” thing—and then harness our awareness to see inward, our sensitivities are altered.

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“Life In Color”

she stood frozen
on the brink of unknowing
aware that she would never 
view even a single blade of grass 
in the same lackadaisical way

each color of the world so amazing; 
the brilliant, 
the muddied,
the subdued, 
the flamboyant

healing bird-song
danced with her fear-song;
she could hear the colors 
as they presented themselves 
in the beautiful awakening spring pageant

life bursting from the earth crying “halleluiah!”
her core bursting with fear-filled tears

amethyst and aureate pansies
vied for attention
 heralding the season
with smiling faces
that looked up to their beaming sun

out of the dark comes light
out of the light comes dark

flaming northern cardinals
stood out against the
birch tree, covered in
cream and brown and gray 
papier-mâché like bark

salmon and coral tulips
still constrained in their plastic pots 
wrapped in shiny paper 
waiting for their new home
became dancing gifts of love 

the flowering cherry tree 
exploded with dark rosy buds 
that would become 
radiant blush blooms 
the color of cotton candy

bees drank from the nectar of the tree
she drank in the nectar of sight

a bird, she didn’t know, 
glided in circles,
paused by the glass door, 
made contact with her humanity
then took to the heavens

red and gray squirrels  
scurried across 
the rebirthed landscape 
cohabitating peacefully 
with cottontail rabbits

they foraged for food
she foraged for hope

twigs and strands of silver string, 
probably from a Christmas ribbon, 
wafted through the sky 
picked up by winged angels
crafting perfect nests

the budding willow tree,
planted in memory of one
that once invited children to swing from it,
swayed in the breeze 
pushing out tiny, quiet green shoots 

she hugged the trees that try to screen her 
from a man-made metal monster and 
talked to the hollies that chose to survive 
as she lovingly cared them 
year after year

humans nurturing nature
nature nurturing humans

she will shoot dozen of photos,
of spring bursting onto the stage; 
never be seen by another human, 
yet allowing her essence to be joy-filled 
because the earth beckons her to capture them  

black amoebas still float 
through the landscape of her view, but 
they are reminders of 
the hope of reclamation
the gift of sight

the ocean sand she walked on 
held many treasures 
but none like being lifted up by love and 
buoyed by fellow journeyers who 
cradled her fear in the dark

tears spilled down her face,
guttural pleas spilled from her heart

and so, it is with this time 
of renewal, of reawakening,
of second, or one-hundred-second, chances 
that she walks still blurry-eyed 
yet with immense gratitude

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