Monday, March 16, 2015


one, two step
brush the hand, touch
willow leaves ; gentle whip
on a life outstretched.
Sunshine dotes
hair falling from curls
down a set of shoulder blades
Move as air, wonder senses
something Other, there,
or there. Hope
in a gentle rhythm on the cotton
on the breeze.
Out beyond these, fields,
readied to be gracious
with my one, two step.

This was the vision
as it came upon me
quiet in the loud
separate in the crowd
helper wings take,
but this time it's okay,
because they take me, too.

Even here, I can leave from here.
I can be told otherwise. I can be
let go of, made into space, feel
the rhythm of a Lord I once knew.
I couldn't feel but feeling itself
Reality: like reeds passed under fingers
dust on the wind, knowledge of sound.
But nothing sticks. Nothing needs to.
Here, only here exists. Only breath
given and even this is takeless. Only
the feeling of fresh air as a gift,
fresh air as if its all there is.

How can you break from the rule of the watch,
matter not to gravity, be.
the Breath of God
expelled wholly weightless,
belonging only to the One who first

His lungs did move
His lips did part
and here we are.

photographer unknown

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