FIVE
U5-P1
As the boulders roll away and the breath becomes full, there is a wholeness I remember. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and the shadows have been constant companions. We have danced in our loneliness, forgotten the sounds of voices that are sweeter than our own. We have hidden and made a hard place comfortable, familiar. Of course the light is blinding. Of course we curse the air and call it too pure for breathing.
But not forever. It’s but a moment that our rejection fills every sense and pours into every soft, bright space. May God hold my legs in place long enough to diminish the belief that I belong in a cave.
U5-P3
Some days— most days— it feels safer to stay twisted in on myself. I’ve been exploring the possibility of coming undone. Not in the sense of losing composure. Much in the way of stretching out so that I no longer ache from the compression. It’s how we were shaped. It’s not All. There is something about transgressing safety that intrigues me, that what we consider safety ain’t all that safe. Who is my compression serving?
They sold me a spiteful god who justifies pain. Somewhere outside of myself. Somewhere I cannot reach. The salt. The blood. The gold. The breath. The heat. As if to hide my own is to preserve something of themselves.
U5-P4
I don’t shine because I want to. I shine because that’s what I was created to do.
U5-P6
“I’m sorry that I did know and didn’t trust my knowing.” More grace.
Hope-colored paint makes the canvas look more like desperation with every stroke. What is that hole you thought you could fill with a wish? Why don’t you try some substance now?
*********
Do my tears touch and twist your guilt? Is that why you’re afraid of the ocean? A fear of what depth might swallow of you? Shame at the realization of what you will have to wring out when you emerge?
Salt and sand are not your enemies. Waves can roll. And they can rage. I will not deny myself to preserve your ego and your fantasies. That thing you think is open and calm is more accurately called suppression. How will you ever appreciate water until you release your fear of submersion?
And let’s suppose that it’s not a deep, dark ocean, but rather a quiet stream or a running river or a lost lake waiting for you to stumble upon her and learn your lessons. My Sun, you will still be reflected back to yourself, rippled into infinite rays. She is only showing you how golden you are. And that not everything must be burned to prove there is power. You, my love, are grasping at control. And that is very different from true power, surrender.
So here’s the thing: if you don’t learn to breathe underwater, or at the very least rest in that spaciousness at the top of your inhale, my love, you will drown. And that is not the death that you should suffer.
*********
Go
outside for a smoke.
Stare
at the moon.
Ask her that truth
be in the light.
Refill
the water pitcher.
Take a sip. Let
cold water
touch my hands.
Peel off
socks and leggings.
Layer
a quilt over
the bedding.
Arrange pillows where
they go.
Grab
paper, pen, and pencil.
Try to make
sense of the unsensible.
Or try to form
words for the senses.
It is
indistinguishable now.
Shine a light
in my face.
Tell me that
if I can’t see, then
it’s not real.
Let explanations slither
from your lips.
Your seamless
words are my unhemming.
The lines between narrative
and poetry
have come undone.
It is
indistinguishable now.
You are both
possible and
impossible.
It is
indistinguishable now.
U5-P7
Hanging on the edge. Gripping. Clenching. Beads of sweat forming on my brow. Breath held. Waiting on the moment when I am all used up. When my fingers must unfurl. When I must inevitably fall into the abyss.
That is no way to love or be loved.
*********
When you pray for me, pray for my highest good. Not your projections. Keep your hopes and fears in a place where they cannot reach me. The grip of your utterances are still constrictions even if your intentions are good. I have never walked the road to hell alone.
Pray for me to breathe. Pray for wide open spaces and expansion my body can handle. When you are looking in the face of Chaos, keep in mind that she might not appear so ugly to me. Roiling. Ranging. Rearranging. All for my highest good.
I will do the same for you. Even if I don’t know the bottom that waits beyonds your every edge.
U5-P9
I desire to create. So I stand at the precipice of my own destruction. Willing to leap. Releasing a ground that no longer holds certainty. Finding out that I can fly. Morphing into who my creations need me to be.
There are new worlds beyond every edge. There are new forms to take in every world. They’ve been telling me to fly for nine whole years now. But I was afraid of death.
And then the angels came and whispered, “There are no ends. Only transitions.”
Assume form or be stuck. You must leap to take shape. Release legs and gain wings. There is nothing left to be shaped on the ground. Take flight. Or be pushed off the edge. Your choice.