Blessed be
The four walls around me.
I tend to exist outdoors.
I’ve long been a stranger to
Holy places built by the hand of man,
But lately I’ve discovered
The precious silence preserved inside churches,
And now the haven of the bathtub.

Oh, to be,
Not by a bird, a cloud, a fly.
Time stretches out like a lake with no waves.

I listen to the drip-down of blood.
“Stay still.”
How deeply can I let myself sink
into the tide inside.
Feel the lives that will not sprout
The roads not taken
As they slowly pour out of me.

I release
My cherished illusions
The urge to act
I hand myself over
To inhale

This marvel of human architecture,
The hair nails toes navel,
The astonishing radio between my ears,
All fades into the background
While the quiet ceremony proceeds.

The body of woman offers
Such soft experiences of dying.
Every entrance and exit
Uncovers a new path
Into fragility.

I hold her gently, my partner of bone and skin,
I kiss her hands
Stroke her feet when she whimpers.

I listen
to the unspeakable tales
Of her eyes in the mirror.

There’s a tree-climbing kid I know there,
Other faces flicker
I do not know
Or remember.
I thank the blood
For reminding me
The greatest mysteries
Are not outside of me.
(But of course, nothing is)

No greater miracle
Than one more chance
To wash the past
From the bottom of my cauldron
And emerge to the open arms
Of a new day.

Published by joythunder

ecstatic wildness