When Rubbish Makes Me Cry

My tears are close
just below the surface of my being
hovering in the wings
trying to break through
what is this hypersensitivity?
this pain of being that hovers so near?
its triggered by such small things -
the child tossing the plastic over the wall
the dustbin right beside him – does he think this land is a dustbin, does he think at all of our Mother the Earth?

How is it to be able to explain this to children, to the adults of this land, to anyone… how to explain when the words are not there.. the language is not mine?

How to give lessons in mime?

Where to begin in this overwhelm place -
the feeling to run – to leap back to the safety of the sterile lands
but closing my eyes changes nothing
ignoring the pains – pretending they are not there
makes no wave
the ripple never reaches the shore
the Mother cries.

Closing my eyes
not seeing
not hearing
not feeling
no answer

no change
stuck, the boredom washes over me, the nothing in my heart, the loss the heartbreak the raw wound of the Mother trashed – crying under the plastic.

But pulsing deep still there, always deep always in harmony – always in flow – to feel that – to connect – to dive deep – past the pain into the womb of the Mother – to be.

To breathe – to let go – to come into Now…

Thank you ..Girl With flower

the smile of the child restores me
I can be for yet another day.

3 thoughts on “When Rubbish Makes Me Cry

  1. your doing an awesome work Shazar Robinson and the lines posted by you are really great.
    hatsoff to you and your team wishing you lots of luck and success.

  2. Sweet lady, you continue to amaze & inspire me! Your words struck such a chord. Love the blog. Much love xx

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