March 28: Panning for Gold
By Toni Spencer
Wake me now
Please take me now
Grab, pull, wrench me free from this place between worlds
Please take my hand
Grab the scruff of my soul
Bring my breath to the door and fling it wide open
For I’ve been taken again
Lost, locked up
Neither weeping nor acting
Neither raging nor dancing
Lost
The grey mountain crowds this terrain and no matter how many maps that I make I can never find the straight road home that I long for
No matter how many maps I make I can never find the straight road home that I long for
It’s crazy making
Trying to navigate the workings of the soul in times like these
Lost and locked up
There is no hand on my neck
No grabbing or pulling me to freedom
But a quiet voice whispers:
Trust the madness
There’s gold in them there hills