Bernice Brijan

I

This morning
Just before
The thunderstorm I saw
A caterpillar moving
Towards my feet
Working his way
Through the dead leaves
Hesitantly searching
For a suitable place to put
Down his feet
Then finishing his motion
Confidently –
Another step
And another
Gradually moving
Towards his cocoon
In his own natural pace
Towards a transformation
In his own way of belonging
To the world
In his one
Precious life.

II

And I thought by myself:
How is this beautiful living being
Any different
From the ammonite
In the Whitby souvenir shop
And from the shell
That washes ashore
Visible signs of valuable lives
Once lived
In the natural pace
Of generations
Perceptible moments 
Of the invisible but
Always enduring
Evolutionary process which
Once originated
From the very first
Living cell but
Has been ongoing since
Resulting in countless
Transformations in
Life’s ways of belonging
To the world.

III

And I wondered:
How are those manifestations
Of aliveness
Any different
From my own
Who am I
If not invited to
Be a full participant in this same
Age-old story of
Rotating galaxies and
Dying stars who
As ancestors
Birthed forth
Wildness that has even
Become conscious of
Itself
Who am I
If not the one who  
Is called to
Follow the wild and
Mysterious thread of
Dreams and longings
In this web of
Wholeness.

May 2022
Bernice Brijan