Transparent Mystery

 

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I hold onto the earth with a firm grip.

Tendrils of being curl around me and,

like cats' tails, soft, boldly entwine others

who come to greet and meet here in worship.

I crave the un-touch of spirit, and so

I am generous with my reach. I dare

let go of earth and stretch further over

my weighted feet, my bare feet, balanced.

In our tendrils we find each other and

close our eyes to breathe light and dark,

to settle under the scent of spirit

that buffers sound, that enhances silence.

Here, I lose count of my arms and fingers,

of my word-ed exhales and time itself.

My blog poems are rough drafts.

Please respect my copyright.

© 2022 Susan L. Chast