We Carry Our Magic

We carry our magic
in the cupped palms of our hands.

The stream flows regardless.

We carry our magic
in our breath
gently blowing away
carelessly dropped comments.

Barbs to wound are
picked out immaculately
and promptly burned.

We carry our magic
in a kiss resting at the
corner of a mouth
Ready to heal what ails.

We carry our magic.
It is “always as close
as this breath
and this moment.”

The moment we choose
to enter into

And in so doing
we exit the
atmospheric drama

We never called down
only found
having previously been
summoned.

We carry our magic
in our waters
(Whatever your body
we all have waters.)

Capacity for caring
for loving
for transformative
healing.

So drop that fighting stick
on the floor of the forest —

And feel the river flow.

(I originally wrote this poem in August 2020)