I am fragile,
but when I shatter–
as I must, and soon–
a warmth will remain.
You will find me again.
That is the most dazzling magic.
This realization comes
at the edge of this life,
a sand grain witness to a vast sea.
Each arriving wave softens
the distance into which
my longing stretches.
I am readying to dissolve.
Together, can we cover the Vastness?
Or will I buckle, split us into two,
and tension the crossing.
Hummingbirds don’t even
slow down when they cross the beach.
That is the nature of forgiveness–
to abandon every interpretation
and put oneself beyond reach of land.
In some moments, I know if had to,
I could absorb everything,
because I would never have to.
It is then that my arms would be Yours,
my face the sweetness You inhabit.
To migrate across the sea,
they must abandon
the weight of their conclusions
and travel light.
The darkness guides them,
protects them, wraps around them,
whistles through them, swirls in their lungs,
and creeps inside their chests
to insulate their steadily pounding hearts
with a silence that will never falter.
A lifter with a spotter like that
will shatter himself every time
and the world will drink him in.
He will awaken at dawn–
empty and nameless, visible.
Thoughtless, delicious, raw need
draws from darkness
the very feeling by which they are sustained.
Likewise, we can become what is most needed,
though long have we feared becoming that type of agency.
No more. My conclusions are scattering.
At noon, I scraped them into a cup
and sprinkled them over the side.
The outgoing tide took them.
ensures the thread of the sacred
can never be lost. Solidify it,
hold it in your hand, and know it not.
Set it free, and it will fill all of space,
and you will glimpse your own arrival.
I have no thoughts that matter anymore.
You spoke once, and I came into existence.
That feeling will carry me across the water.
I but stagger here, glimpsing the way Your Memory
flickers through every moment, beckoning.
I will fly until I shatter, far from land.
I will fly straight for the night when You call.
Can that be enough?
Every time I take my shoes off and put my stocking feet up on the black coffee table in front of the sofa, I leave little grains of sand behind. No matter how often I wash and shake out and remove shoes at the door of my heart, it seems sand makes its way into my home. I am in the process of making peace with sand.
I AM ADORING thinking about these little interlopers now each as a little witness to the vast sea that is longing to come home in me. Thank you Michael. To put oneself beyond the reach of land, yet still have a few grains reminding us of where we have been.
A lovely analogy, M. This week I have needed a ShopVac. Confidence and uncertainty have both shown up at the horizon of the unknown like two competing contractors with their clip boards and knife-sharpened pencils to take notes on the job. I’m thinking to myself… where did these guys come from, and who’s going to pay for all this!? Those little grains of sand remind me to excuse myself from the meeting, walk out the back door and take a deep breath of the Inner Beyond. 🙂
Thank-you, Michael, for visiting my blog. I look forward to reading more of your gracious words.
My pleasure! I like being able to browse through so many different poetic voices in one place. And thank you for the kind words…