(2020 Isn’t Even Over.)
Doldrums not dolphins
Lockdown, not “Hey, stop down!”
I have arrived
In my earliest summer mornings
…I am relaxed…
Body memory takes me back
Anatomically, a switch fires:
I am hanging clothes for Mom in the backyard,
Alongside the Little House.
This is experience, not memory.
I can tie it to the other summer mornings on my belt & move on.
I have the Sense that time is playing peek-a-boo
Time meant “life” as we knew it
Before the Ides of March arrived on the 23rd here…when
Time actually became a worthless currency – erased from the face of the clocks.
(What did it matter when we took off our pajamas?)
We had time all over our hands, dripping off, unimportant, schedules erased, through no fault of our own.
It ran off the clock in inky blackness we tried to catch & put back up. Instead we were made to wash our hands of all of it.
Time wasn’t money…but it was worth it.
We backed into not knowing the next of it
Days passed, even cravings vanished eventually, let alone news accuracy.
It began to feel “right” to seal inside – of course I can always say
it’s part of the heat signature, if asked.
I don’t know about you, but I didn’t plan for the world to fall asunder,
At least as I’d known it.
All the bubbles are popping
All the soap operas ushering on their fat ladies with sweeping bows.
Mom always said, “Have six month’s expenses in the bank.” Ah! The description of a dream of my very own!
Between the moments of evolution & the next Emergence of holy life
We stand poised, yet learning by discovery (as always)
You live by your prayers, your wits, your altered (alerted) senses, until you live by habit, by rote; all alike as box stores at the edges of scintillant consciousness.
Again cornered with un-betokened dark news
Clothing myself in worded Psalms!
O, Lord! Added to the head of the line.
Is the short reply to a long-awaited answer.
Mystery a lá Alchemy
Finding at the end of “What was I thinking?” a
Long, drawn-out “Ohhh.”
My Arrival II
A resounding & magical “Amen” to all my prayers
(humble as they were, they were mine)
As a Traveler of Words, I evolve quickly,
Like, with a wish.
My Arrival III
There is no GPS in heaven – you either know where
You’re going, or you leave.
Some of us agreed to be the leavers
Some of us travel lightly across worlds
In no particular order other than within.
A Theatre of Words
One letter shy of encompassment –
An Imprimatur emerges in my life
I acknowledge my me as the only one
& thus the best.
My next moments are spent
Tagging the universe & running away.
I was waiting for the Light. I was watching it magnify around me
As one by one by solitary one, all the descriptions I might have for it
Melted away to simply standing still.