sun :: moon
rhythms of corona
dance at the edge
into space.

“Tend your roots”
they say together
“with grief, with gratitude”
they say.
“Nourish your webs”
they say together
“with humility, with joy”
they say.
“See long the arc of process,
how it bends on and on and on
in progress.”

Under all that iron and flesh,
muscle and fascia,
neural pathways and bone…
deep inside the cage where
nothing and everything
can be tamed,
where nothing and everything
can be made wild again.
There lives the pulsing,
an honorary guardian of time.

Sometimes the upwellings
gallop hard along those pathways.
You, fully immersed
under 63,000 pounds of dirt
upon your back, my dear,
and do not make balance,
or were never taught the art,
so you keep the weight, to do right by—
forging your path under a map of stars.
And blessed be, for you are a gift,
you are a spirit rupture,
gifted and seen.

Sometimes the shiny bright
circulates in time along those trails.
You, fully immersed, once again
connecting 63,000 points of light
with quick electric connectivity
of everything and all that you be.
Blinding. You do not make balance,
or were never taught the art
so you keep the blindspots that
pour from your chest, to expand from—
forging your path into worlds yet unseen.
And blessed be, for you are a gift,
you are a spirit spark,
gifted and shining.

But what, where, why
this weight?
this illumination?
you know: in balance, balance, balance
with truth, justice, love, compassion?
what is the color of this new time?
what is the number of this rhyme?
how can it all be held?
how can it all be sown?
how can it all be mended
and welded
and woven into a home?
Because I wonder about gray
and what lives there,
in-between the edges that are so apparent.


Maybe the emperor penguin speaks
to crow
who watches squirrel
who listens for snakes.
And they all know communication
they all know grief
and surely commitment too.
For I have seen a crow preach a homily
heard a squirrel birth for hours,
watched snakes cross my path
just to go somewhere new.
And sometimes did not make it.

We need to know the hurt,
eyes need to know it, see it
feel it burn in our aching lungs
“Tears! Break free!”
Sun & Moon proclaim.
We need to learn with joy
spirits need to feel it, be in joy with it
explode from the gut with it
“Laughter! Break free!”
Sun & Moon proclaim.
Spirit eyes need to
heal, scar,
learn to be resilient.

History is not as asymptomatic
as one could easily pretend.
Don’t look directly into the sun,
an addiction of wonder,
and so too the state
where the coil grows dim.
Maybe it is time to move on
to a new kind of current.

Call on elements
fire and water.
Fire, move us from that place
with sister wind
fan the flames, transform landscapes.
Water, cool and cleanse
with brother earth
flood what raged, sow anew in fertile soil.
There is no align, when only survive.
there is no justice, when only thrive.
It is evident now, today,
this moment and the ones that follow:
we are living in holy times.
The social fabric is shifting.
We are leaning-in
to unforeseeable places
in the ever unfolding of
this moment to this one,
and now this one again.

Sun of enlightenment
burns faster, busy to outshine
full blown lamentations.
Moon of mystery
casts shadows, concerned only
with the truth of slow down
and tune in.

In this
time we have
opportunity for sorrow,
humility, entertainment,
revery, escalation, vulnerability,
openness, lamentation, teachers, solace.

Opportunity awaits:
look in the inbetweens
learn how to paint anew,
language fresh,
offer up our hearts
once again to ever turning
anchor points.

There is work and there will be rest.
Balance enhances, all around.
There is dandelion and black, white and scarlet.
But oh! do not forget about the delicious wonders
of echinacea’s purpurea
mossy chartreuse,
sea glass bouys,
turquoise stories,
periwinkle cosmos
and vibrant crocosmia.

If we shall forget,
we shall also commit
to re-remember
it all again for
these are the gems
we tune in, out, up
of what we will:
into existence.

About K. Luna Lea

Pronouns: She/Her & They/Them. Transitionary experiences have cracked me open time and time again, bearing a thunder in my heart so loud it became impossible to ignore: "Be vulnerable.  Let go.  Fail and try again.  Always center authenticity." I am profoundly informed by honoring, healing, and serving through my queer identity, androgeny, history of trauma, neurodivergent world view, and an ever expanding dedication to resilience and spirituality each and every day. My own expriences being stigmatized greatly impacted my willingness to be vulnerable.  The outcome:  Self sensorship and diminished capacity for transformation.  But then a great thing happened.  I decided to turn up the volume of my unsensored inner knowing. Showing up in the world as a writer has been one of the many ways I've learned to ground in and channel my very own authentic voice.

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