Wild Writing 8/100

According to your readiness

Everything will open

The bright backlit door will frame a

crisp spring day where the bees have all come out to dance in the manzanita

Where the eucalyptus tree will be so alive with buzzing

it will seem to be shimmering

against the bluest sky full of wispy clouds

That is not today, but soon.

When you are ready, the sports car of your dreams will shift

into gear and you will go 0 to 60 in thirty seconds flat

The way Jupiter transits our chart and blows off the roof of a house

All that increase, change, luxury, pleasure

You will not know your readiness internally, no

You may still find yourself sick to your stomach with grief 

and a sharp pain behind your heart,

But you will start to notice

a stillness that is lighter

than the deep, sucking darkness of depression

Little things, trivial things, will catch your attention.

A song that makes you smile more than weep

Opening the windows.

Cooking and eating eggs and bacon for breakfast again

Wanting to sit outside in the sun, bare feet on the coarse porch concrete

the carpenter bees heavy and lulling in flight,

examining the wooden steps for a new place to drill a home

The hummingbird that lands on a pine tree branch, 

her long beak a tiny sword,

her neck and breast iridescent with jewel tones, 

green and blue

You will want to get dressed and actually put on shoes,

And you will take your keys,

and you will take

yourself

out.

(Prompt is "According to your readiness” For Someone Awakening To The Trauma of His or Her Past by John O'Donohue. I am creating a timed piece of wild writing every day for 100 days for this year’s 100 Day Project.)