Animals’ Gate

there is the new gate, somehow built
of the blood of animals
on our hands and tire treads,
somehow swung open on the other side
of this burning bridge

what kind of fire are you willing
to walk your mindfeet through
when there is no swimming access
through a river gealed in plastic?

what kind of stuff are you willing
to part with, resenting its domination
and barriers, while the sky reverses its flow
at the rim of your former blindness?

on the other side, freedom reigns
for living creatures, and bugs sing love
on fresh leaves to the god of wonder

on the other side, instincts smile
upon elements of plenty, the waters
hold cherished eggs
in endless cups of thanks near safewild dens

how sight reforms its awareness
once things clear to simplicity,
once the ears drop their chatter about selves,
to rest in tiger’s mouths
and on the ferns of peace to pillow
past the gate the animals
have opened

 

© J. Celan Smith