Ts'ui Po (960-1279)
Was it the Spring Equinox which crept up
on me for once, unannounced, unnoticed?
Was it Ancestors wafting past me, their
scents attar of roses and tobacco?
Was it their heartfelt messages of Love
or was it simply Time, whose power, like Sleep,
or Silence, is so underrated, its
healing balm freely given, so often
wasted; always the best thing, not just to
measure my days, but a cure for malaise?
Was it a loved one's Healing Circle which
bade me fall to sleep so suddenly and
wake refreshed; did their sorcery move me
on from living in that hateful place called Limbo?
Was I so haunted by past pain and hurt
that the Spring's New Moon took me by surprise?
So softly she held me, nursing me gently,
close to her breast, tempting me to feed, to
hope, to believe and rise with her again.