touching my toes

12 Jun

it occurs to me this morning

that flexibility is the higher order

of this earthy trip

from amnesiac birth

and warrior marching

through weed

and thorny ways

on toward an exit

back stage left

even as soon as tomorrow.

at the first sign of tightness

in thought and id

is the time to jump on that confusion,

(which creeks and aches like arthritis

in me, a short lived wow-man)

not when it gets too late

and I have cemented myself

into my own confusion.

does the world need my allegiance

to a side?

I hope not –

sides are always born

of confusion.

may the head to arms to toes of me

BE free of the tightness

born of rigid thoughts.

i like to linger in bed

and avoid the chill of morning

but the calisthenics needed

are not optional

if i want a lucid

view.

I whistle at the squirrel

and dance with walter the cat

and stomp confusion out as

i plunge myself into the frigid bath

of truth

breathing into the spacious air

shaking off all my thoughts

on a constant refresh rhythm.

for now, tea is still waiting

with heavy cream to boot, rich my life.

i’m getting it while i still can

and i’ll have no regret

as breath leaves this body bag

alone alone and together i am

with every worm and vulture

waiting to clean my bones

that served me well.

 

 

7 Responses to “touching my toes”

  1. footloosedon June 13, 2020 at 5:49 pm #

    I liked this piece a lot, Marga. The arc of life from birth to death stated in beautiful evocative terms. Thanks you.

    • marga t. June 13, 2020 at 6:44 pm #

      Thank you, Don. Enjoying the in between, as I know you and Alison are too! Hope you are well. 🙂

  2. Alison and Don June 13, 2020 at 10:33 pm #

    What Don said! I’ve been thinking about the inevitability of death a lot lately, and beginning to wonder why I cling to being a “me” with all the mental arthritis it brings, when I could just be done with it and smile.
    Alison xo

  3. Michael June 14, 2020 at 3:49 pm #

    I loved the part about not picking sides in this one. We fracture ourselves to create those lines within us, and then we find pieces of ourselves on both sides of the fracture anyway, only now bereft. And we can only sustain these divisions in moments when we forget the Great Quiet into which we are all of us sailing together… We are passengers on the same ship…

    • footloosedon June 14, 2020 at 5:10 pm #

      I fear that it’s the Titanic.

      • marga t. June 15, 2020 at 12:42 am #

        Yes, lately, yes! Maybe we can celebrate the good water view. 🙂

    • marga t. June 15, 2020 at 12:53 am #

      That spacious ship, with the name you’ve given it “The Great Quiet” painted on the stern. We forget it’s just a ride. I am holding a fender for any rough docking. So happy to have your visit here.

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