all that wanting and grasping
had me gasping.
didn’t know it, of course, until I got a big breath of clear air.
lungs opened for the first time
unfolding and pushing bones into an expansion
my body was surprised to learn it could hold.
cracked open by a rabbit’s big heart.
and when the shattered pieces fell I didn’t recognize this room.
where all the space came from.
the emptiness bangs around, bruises and heartpains in its wake,
but there is something else too.
there is being here-ness.
(what was I so worried about?)
there is me from a place where the crows look down
as I sweep and watch thought spirals dissipate into spring pollen.
there is softness.
the hardness was so hard.
I’m so sorry you were programmed to do that to yourself.
when the noise drops out, it's all that's left —
beginning and ending and everything in between, the (no)thing that’s been here all along.
a terrifying place, and also home.
can you even believe we could ever be so free?