Photo by Mary Torregrossa
SPECTRUM SPECIAL EDITION What's Next?

Tuesday, November 10, 2020

Cindy Rinne


View Next Door of Destruction

Mole upcurves to a parched saffron surface.

Then burrows through misty sand, silt, 

and clay. Unwinds forming a new path. 

Giant roots anchor each turn—


I sigh.

Shadows hug.

A radiant crone appears 

with long, white hair.


Stay rooted, underground for a while, she says.


I follow mole, yet aware of the elder woman’s presence.

Time to awaken senses other than sight to nourish my heart.

Move beneath the scenes like crawling through tunnels.


This Southern Magnolia, part of an ancient circle, surrounds a tall

vertical stone. Listen carefully and it sings a healing song.


The roaring of power saws when people refuse to hear.


Tree survived fire. Cut down today. Only sawdust left




Light Searches Shadows 


Darkness falls in the desert as I lie down in the cool sand

facing a sea of stars. They swirl to become a wind horse.


You can go anywhere, she says.


The horse is above me yet in me. My soul darts around

mountain peaks. Then over a mystical garden. Deer, moth,

hummingbird, monarch, and bluebird drink nectar there.


Then a Native American woman appears in the cosmos.

She gives me a skin filled with bags of water.


Soak the thirsty land, she says.


I shuffle in the desert placing the small pouches of liquid

at the base of each cactus and succulent. I end up walking

in a circle. Then I dance hard pounding the Earth.

Next appears tortoise always carrying her home.


Follow my path. The way is clear. No rush, she says.


I briefly swim with sea turtles before returning to the stacked stones

wisdom of the desert. An oasis surfaces where palms, cattails, and

great horned owls stare at me. They sway as one.


A time of rest will transition to action, they say.




Collect


On my walks for a long time

I don’t find a feather. But when

I was writing a myth about birds,


feathers were everywhere.

One day, I asked if I should

continue writing this story.


At that moment, a white feather

drifted through the olive tree

right in front of me and fell 


at my feet. I took this as a yes.

Next time I find a feather,

I’d like to dream into its


memory and discover 

the message it carries.


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