Homeostasis

We are held together by the smallest things,

The osteoblasts and myocytes,
keratin and collagen.

Nothing that is alive can grow
until it splits apart;
nor mend without a multitude
of unseen actions that come together exactly 

 right.

The intricate synergy of our own self-organizing;
The cellular orchestration of its own volition.

As long as we breathe, we evelope,

 reincarnate, and repair.  We flow with the

endlessness of order and chaos.

The healed places are knit together most

tightly, and yet they are a liability. Less

yielding, unforgetful.

Bodies are as dynamic as lives.

To rebuild is not simple nor guaranteed. It is 

fraught
with errors easy and incalculable. 

The process lasts as long as we are willing

 to continue it, or
as long as the microscopic labor 

can be sustained.

It is by those unseen cellular deeds 

that we are made alive each day. And by their grace, 

we heal.

In the forest

 In the forest I am a child.

There in the moss, I laid the weight of everyone’s tears.

Breathing in the sweet tilthy floor,

its spongey small tentacles and sharp snaps,

I was enveloped in her playful goodness.

Amidst the song sparrow and red-legged frog,

the world is still and alive.

There, the large world of my young life is smaller, but also wide.

There are no monsters to stare down. No children to save.

No one to rescue but me.

Like an elder, she surrounded me with her quiet power and granted me a stoic sanctuary.

In the forest I did not need to be brave, or strong, or good.

In the forest I am a child.