by Dunya Dianne McPherson
When the world,
wind-whipped and breeze-cut,
its wail and shimmer hold me still.
My tremulous breath knows its evanescence.
My breath knows itself,
My breath no longer needs me and my plans
for the next breath.
My breath no longer waits for me
and those other breaths
that have slid by my heart
full of a certain day.
My heart tips forward
cupping my dark innerness,
deep in a cavern, free and soft as a mollusk
in a Forever way, without direction.
Inside the rock.
Before the ocean.
The world was once shrouded.
Melt like salt in rain.
Down and in.
I woke a little.
Birdsong pierced holes in the gray veil.
I closed my eyes, returning to darkness.
I woke again in pale fog.
Little mouths on the back of my spine
opened and closed.
My toes stirred the warmth beneath covers,
my breathing still heavy with sleep.
I closed my eyes, waiting.
A wave surged up through my thighs, my belly, my chest,
opening me to the day,
to air ready to cradle me, enter me.
I tossed back the covers so it could touch me.
So it could draw me forth.
I am delighted that you are with me and appreciate your sharing these writings friends. Thank you!
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