Archive | February, 2020

The Sweetness of Invisible Comfort

17 Feb

longing is a secret door

8 Feb

We only need to long

from our lower bellies

and our furnace hearts,

not from the jumpled frenzy of our thoughts.

Each moment

is the longing for breath,

and blood in veins

to carry what the breath brought in –

to keep us alive to long some more.

 

However, we are thinking animals

who have wallpapered over desire

with complex patterns.

We’ve forgotten where

impulse

comes from.

At the bottom of all complexity,

we can codify.

Tell me, is this list accurate?

Humans desire:

  1. to keep on breathing
  2. to pleasure the flesh
  3. to distract from the horror that comes from knowing we will die
  4. to keep on breathing

 

However,

breath will end; it will.

(enormous, this!)

Then and only then,

desiring the air of another realm

will pull us out of this life —

and though I can not prove anything to you,

I practice breathing and ending breath both;

for when my moment comes,  I desire ease.

I imagine our work on this larger breath can be gifted

to whomever needs it ~ when.

Use it with my blessing,

for I love you

in this breath.

 

 

now that my tongue knows no blue

5 Feb

a salty song

around my shoulders

wraps me in a harmony

of thirds.

Love like the wind

needs no introduction,

no permission from my parents

to bow on a knee

with a ring.

I’m sniffing yellow

bursts of instant knowing.

I can be entered by the sun

in penetrating ways –

the passing through of each photon

registers on my richter spine

of sway – I offer my belly for a rub.

Hear this felt truth —  I know no bounds.

What enters me

is entered by me

as it passes on,

an exchange without end.

Ever echoes the fervored beat

I dance

eternity

for now

a textured shadow on my retina

curve

later thinning out on the curve

of expansion

among other all-

perceiving BEings

returning

to our agreed

upon spot

no one

need know

but love.

 

 

somewhere along the way

1 Feb

instead of keeping on

with the human interaction experiment,

I started saying no

and dropping out of the game.

It was so gradual,

I didn’t notice when self-care

turned into hiding.

Separate became a theme song,

playing on repeat

on the radio in my head.

Prone felt better than upright,

cozy felt better than cold,

alone felt better than awkward,

and predictable became a slow slide.

The blood began to thicken.

I told myself that I was refusing

to be food for the energy suckers.

What’s new?

I’m ankle deep at the surf’s edge

where

the water is cold,

the air is worse,

but the alternative is only for the bears,

and only in one season.

Spring seasons return,

and probably will again,

but I won’t wait

for it to come to me.

Motion is required

for the body,

but more so, for the mysterious heart,

which can’t be met

until I show up.

 

 

 

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