Three cords from my body
The first is love
The second, truth
The third is light
Like a child, I sit cross-legged as I braid
Working the fibers between my fingers
They polish my hands and smooth my skin
I am weaving a path for that which moves me forward
Too often disguised as steps
They are the keepers of the lake, the watchful pair
You can find him on the water, eyes closed, heart open
You can find her on the land, arms as welcoming as the shoreline
Waiting for small boats like mine
Stand here, don’t move, let the waters do their work
Breathe in, that’s it. Healing sometimes feels like drowning
Breathe out, your body descends, let your tears join the sea
Float now, open your eyes & notice who you’ve come to be
A space to move, to think, to feel
A space to learn & know what’s real
A space given to undergrowth
A space you made, make for us both
The creases around your smile mirror the creases around mine.
And with time, I learn them better.
More permanent when I close my eyes.
A shared communion, this reflection.
A joint in the wood.
Some measure of joy.
Let this continue, I ask to whoever is listening.
Let the lines deepen and tomorrow let me recount the stories hidden in them.
The vision is a heart: strands attached, linked to each other.
Each one, resolution.
One at a time, strands are removed, wished well & sent on their way.
Some have hurt, some do not. All leave a mark.
How does it happen? The love that fades and the love that grows?
Into nothing. Out of nothing.
Destruction & creation, following blueprints, but there are no plans to follow.
Only a dimly lit road that I walk.
So to know love, one foot goes in front of the other.
A quiet meditation.
The path is right until it isn’t.