Culminating all life force at the tip
of a fir, its burgeoning baby needles, rubber and not yet
green, not yet poky and darkening— where are you
in me? My gut, my throat speaks— here:
Become the way first and the path unfolds from there.
You, the single drop of rain into still lake, I
life, rippling out.
Decisions are physics, right ones flow with ease
from the entire earth for we are all
earth.
They change the course of what is not yet
history— at the Great Turning point, honor this
ease, flood the channels of your entirety
with such Love like bees
suddenly swarming for home, starlings slicing
the diamond wind, or the bolting deer: dance
with your heart, here, pulsing in your hands,
certain moves are swift like this but remember
the Truth in timelapsing blooms listening for light
quietly as they do— its all unfolding.
Regurgitate your pride, behold it in your palms
pulsing and tender as abalone in her hollowed bone, cradled
in rainbow, in ribbons of bile and Truth—
who told you to hide
from your body?
While your spine was wide
awake? Risk receiving!
Your own Love! Which is
to feel yourself now
trembling and alive as Earth is threading
the Light of the Sun, a rolling dog
eager to feel its entire body
amniotic in it, panting
and fully submerged in the forgiveness
of grass and worms— as though you could instantly forget
all words and just be breathing. Breathing.
Breathing air thick with your Maker’s
secret manuscript, encoded in the wood of every drawer,
warming the instruments at dawn in dark
caws and whistles, sparrowed moans and distant flicker
drums, in the drawers of your body
living minerals swim
beneath a keyhole glint
where every
every
vision
you sought
you see
now was
built in.