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Artwork by Jackie Ivy.


I wonder if it's the leaves that lose their trees,

Which remain stubbornly upright and still,

Even as the leaves surrender

To a passing breeze,

The lessening of light,

The delicate needs of their host.

Midwives and doulas,

Weaving time

Backwards and forwards

Through ancestors and descendants,

A haunting, subtle energy inviting

The fullness of the universe.

We are meant for this time,

A doorway into relational being.

To see.

To hear.

To feel.

Sacred patience.

Presence in life.

Medicine of community.

Sacredness of all beings.

I think it is true—

The leaves do lose their trees,

Wafting feather-light to the forest floor

To be returned to the soil,


Restored to whole.


Sometimes when I take something I think I know and turn it upside down, a whole new story can unfold.

Sending love,


p.s. - I offer gratitude to the Garrison Institute Fellows and the participants in our December 2021 Nurturing Relational Sensemaking Ideas and Practices Festival who filled my heart with the idea for this poem. Join us online on March 3 for our next workshop. And to my friend and Garrison Fellow, Jackie Ivy, for sharing the art of her heart with me and with us.

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