Tuesday, September 9, 2014

All Spirit

My depth has traveled deeper
It only surfaces when I ride, 
Hair tangled in knots by the wind
Under full moons 
On precariously paved roads
You know me so well you can't see past it
These are new knots, 
New fears of traveling headfirst into concrete,
New moons

I have to trust that I was meant to have a scar on my chin, 
One on my top lip too, 
The universe gave me kisses 
Hard, unwelcome guidance, 
Plunging me into crevices
Too small to fit claustrophobia 
A rock is a hard place, 
Don't you see? 
That's why my living room has no other kinds of chairs, 
Just rocking ones
Inherited from every woman in my family 
Each knew the universe would rock them
Out from under the rocks in the riverbed that clutch our feet

Each month I feel different, 
Different about the stones in the water,
About my relationship to the chairs and their previous owners,
Each month I look at myself differently 
In the still water, tide pool reflections 
This time, I see how my skin melts with the sky
And my hair marries the brown bark of the trees
Both above and behind me
Framing my every movement, both physical, cerebral
All spirit

Maybe this is the beauty of transitional periods, 
We are more aware of our constant morphing 
Though we are always doing it
My impatience has been constant, however
That part of me is steady, 
The only part. 




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