Julie Marie Hoey

the source is in
the path you walk
gently relieving
the Spanish moss
hanging from limb after limb
length after length
of celadon green
smokey and smoldering
in the dense humidity of
the breath of the south

leaves, lace-like
delicately brushed
with shadow and sunlight
strewn, scattered and
sprinkled on earth
curving into the muck
dancing with the dank mud
married to umber

step by step you take
direct, cautious, questioning
backwards steps
then steps minuscule
but forward
these are steps
none the less
each expanding into days,
years, decades of dust and grit
and gossamer veils of
sunlit rays spotlighting
your way into stardust

your steps are the source
each challenge
each decision
the collective gathering
that is the source
of the sacred
the gathered collective is
the divine