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There is a poem

There is a poem

in our Gratitude

in the Ancestry that is our Future

in the Presence

that fruits our past

and our passing

There is Gratitude in our

steps that find us standing still,

while our sitting down finds us

standing up

There is a poem

in the Honoring of our Grief

in the pain from which we are

no longer polarized

in our cradle that no longer

clutches for a calm,

in a torrent where we find tenderness

for tears so salty

they stream from the sea

In the Honoring of our Grief

we give as we receive

eyeing our way to the center of

the storm

and we do not hide

and we do not seek

the Stillness of this Movement

There is a poem

in our Seeing With New Eyes

where our Gaian vocabulary

loves composite words


exists as a synesthetic prefix

to inhalexhale and a verb



There is poem

in our infinite


that breathes

a poetry of

symbiotic survival

There is poem

in our Going Forth

in our groundedness

that dances

in our soaring

that roots us

in our knitting that

re-weaves the web

There is a poem

in all of us

in our Work that


~Bronwyn Preece

May 2010

*I dedicate this poem to Joanna Macy*