Karinaland River

No End to Possibilities        if I do this then what will happen? obviously for sure if I do this correctly then nothing will happen (to me) if I disappear then nothing has happened   to me to you to anybody   if I answer just the right way                         will I be alright?   perhaps if I chose the right road then I won’t be disappeared   If I make a wrong move                         then that might be my end   or your end, or all of ours   if I stay silent                         you will not need to feel uncomfortable   possibly if I do not come here then you will not have a proble...

Life Always Loved Me Life always loved me – surely gave me everything needed, as baby absorbing parents’ hunger pain confusion helpless fear, Mama’s desperate fury Papa’s gentle absence, young and fierce survival bombs bullets catastrophe scarce rationed food no money ceiling crumbling, taught me sacrifice always I was in love with them and they have always loved me…   Whatever made me walk away seek new lands in München Kaulbachstrasse Paris New York Frankfurt Brazil Berlin Jerusalem Persia Italy Hawaii San Francisco North Berkeley – till I stopped running stayed firmly put falling in love with steep hill’s old talkative live oaks hawks participating watching me with care all places loved me and wrapped in awe I always loved them…   Yet home stays far away, removed so far hidden till I dare to be entranced by tender curious gaze of deer squirrel owl fox cat racoon opossum gopher coyote hummingbird hovering their eyes at times intensely gleaming with dreams improvising my basi...

  This Morning   sun rises in my heart – starts flowing bubbling over speechless lips roots growing downward elongating spine   innocence is wiggling in my curious toes cup with gold is slowly swelling safely hiding in big belly fleeing nowhere   lightness of being how wondrous gliding free Karina Epperlein, June 2025 My Clematis at the front door keeps showing off  blooming four and five petalled like night stars.

  When You Feel Afraid   When i feel afraid i become a hare at dusk small and white and soft exploring the fields of life learning to bolt, turn corners escaping fitful deadly dangers quickly recognizing helpers i nuzzle and restore   When you feel afraid i become an owl at sunset sailing silently through oaks scanning cool air and ground speedily i carry medicine to those in silenced need of swift miracles calmly sensing their despair i gather and embrace When i feel afraid i become a little girl at midnight tracing paw prints with my fingers counting stars as close friends of mine feeling insanely safe amidst explosions with invisible fierce feet i run and run abruptly stop, rendered helpless i remember and snuggle   When you feel afraid i become a raindrop before dawn letting myself fall and fall and fall along the way touching in with clouds breeze and branches, multiplied by sunrise gently i land on fragrant quince tree blossoms and on your cheek, languidly evap...

Folding and Unfolding   How to fold?   Fold myself into the world and its troubles.   Unfold the questions. The sneaking helplessness. How to breathe myself into a Luftballon? Helium balloons floating high. Eagle-eye view. Fold myself into the fierce defense of a small spider. Hiding, scrambling. Once outside, she is ready to spin her web, again. How does she do it? Six legs. Our hands, too, fold and unfold... Could we fold ourselves into a sanctuary? Become shelter. Unfolding lurking anger. Eyes shine with gratitude. Allowing for confusion, wrinkles, not knowing. Astonishment. Surprise. Space for koala bears, storks, and hawks alike. Beckoning the heart so hurt to transform. Into a treasure chest for swollen moons. Solace. Insight. Wrapped into cosmic invisible arms. Geborgenheit. Folding. A refuge for lonely mothers with sensitive little boys. Who must cry, can’t help but wail. Too much, too fast. Overwhelm. Tears and ultimate letting go. How does she protect her hands,...

Choosing do we choose who we are – are we? quite ruffled by the winds of time the king’s revengeful laughter the mob’s out and inbreaths we are early bloomers fragrant & delicate   our five petalled faces freckled with hints of rose naked winter firmly boosting in-born curiosity timid slugs traveling stem, leaf and blossom we chose to greet fog  frost  rainstorm  sun tell tales of countering old king’s cruelties defying spread of terror – we are alive   do we choose our windblown tininess, do we? helpless in mudslides and furious flooding disheveled rumpled hesitant and stirred   infused with goodness we still glow huddled in flocks yet declaring all life is sacred – we chose newly confused uncombed tiny and eager cruelly tossed  troubled  shaggy  hollow prepared to be surprised by tears yet with fierce true compass    trembling in turbulent times – do we   choose? life… and somehow bow Karina Epperlein, January 29, 2025 Pr...