or 20 Minutes in the Beauty of Bewilderment
Standing naked beside myself, a wilderness of one no longer existing, surrounded by many.
I am a ninety two year old man dying in your arms. I am a young woman who cannot see but I see you.
Whispering trees urging me home speaking in a language I desperately want to understand.
Ancestors calling, singing me back to my original self. How do they know I’ve gone missing?
I rub my limbs with wild lavender and return to the dream of its own dream, the repeat of the repeated.
Searching to the depths of a cluttered ocean. There you are underwater, dry, sitting, floating.
“Where have you been,” I ask. “Behind you, in front of you,” you say. I am there and still missing.
My chemistry is stunned with my wanting. Contractions aching in my solar plexus expanding
reaching out to touch you without touching. Tattoo me with your touch. I will carry you home.
This is my moment to love you. My waking is with you sleeping in my wanting, swimming, blending.
Mysterious melting ice in the spice of our distant souls, singing
