Back To The Pit

When I return

Back to the pit

Where fertile soil birthed the beginning, the word

And where endings are witnessed beyond the horizon

Where rocks have whispered and blossoms are nodding

“Yes, you’ve seen us before”

I remember the word

One word

In a place where nothing is neat

And to this place I will return

Like the burning of sage

The scent returns to the nose

The ash, back to She

The smoke, weaving through space to meet the spirit of maker

My descent

Shall be a one word affair

And heard only by the weary

As they’ve surrendered to the flight

Just as reeds in the wind

Offer no resistance

Nor shall I

When I return, back to the pit

To rise again

Maybe That’s It

Making sense

Brings its own questions

Like floating through space

How is that possible?

And the pink in the rock

And the blue and the green

How do they come about?

And a cats purr

Why do I remember the peace when I hear it?

And it is peaceful

Like a lake or a crisp sun in winter

I don’t want to make sense of the why

Maybe that’s it

As if I did, maybe magic wouldn’t exist anymore

We

I forgot the existence of you

We were lost

And I clung, structure kept me up but my legs ached and my fingers were burnt by the sun I painted blue

But in that, I remembered again

There you stood

The beautiful flesh of your feet

Soaked by the oil of olives

And jasmine creeped through your toes

Amber seeped from your pores

So firm in you was the essence I’m to love

And not because of command

Because all I had to do was remember

We met before time framed expansions

Before corners boxed our union, branding the blocks as real

Remember the sight we surrendered?

As we bowed, foreheads kissing the soil and eyes closed, resting

Together we rose, below the blossoming buds

We spread our roots to feed, I give back that which I received from you

And when I forgot this

My veins pulsed with such force, too rapid for the void

Too fast for death to settle

In death, there is no judgement

In death, the flesh surrenders to where home began

In death we are woven

Rising to the saviour

That is we.

Nerves

When excitement comes

I think it’s right for me

But my body vibrates

And I’m sensing as I would, if stress were rocking the boat

So, in these differences I can talk myself through

But my body

She knows how the feeling flows

From one side to the other

Reaching the same heights.