I waited for the signal
of birds professing that the day ahead
was waking from her slumber.
There’s a peace in the dawn
that guides us all; an opportunity
for the heart to lead
before we’re all supposed to rely
on the ritual of speech
and I open the gate to greet my selves there.
It’s early enough in the morning
we aren’t required to play whole,
chasing the shadows that unfold
as the sunrise serenades us with its daily composition
but always different shades
of purples and pinks and greens.
They change with my heartbeat,
wind caressing my skin
in time with the gentle blues.
Nature; the lover I’ve been missing,
the world that lays itself out for you.
Letting out the deepest sigh,
your left arm buries underneath mine
in gentle slumber.
I lie in wonder of this stripped back self,
the qualities that are left
when this moment is enough.
You are not so separate from the source
that any connection must do.
All start as bricks and mortar
but some become burning buildings that bury you.
This incarnation is a circular room
with an infinite number of doors;
stop paying attention to the pretty patterns on the walls
and place your damn fingers on a handle.
Practice the gripping
then practice the letting go,
then place a foot through the frame
into all the versions of you
this world is yet to know.
It becomes part of a spiritual practice
to take one’s shoes off,
leave life’s dirt at the door
and find grounding for the body
through soles of the feet
meeting cold, hard floor.
The glue that binds us to the present
whilst infinity shows up to greet my soul.
The source of the indeterminate.
It’s a universal concert
and I’ve got a standing ticket.
The place I go to be everywhere at once
by going nowhere at all.
I will raise my voice to speak,
begin to rejoice in my action
even if no one hears me,
for this body houses a spirit
more powerful than the layer of skin
touched by another’s fingertips.
They dip their desire in holy water
whilst I make my mark with pincer grip,
acknowledging your visit to this sacred space,
a ticket stub reminder of all that’s temporary,
you can only ever sleep beside this,
an understudy to my lifelong apprenticeship.
But first, take off your shoes,
this is holy ground
we both need to learn to worship.
Sometimes the noise inside our minds
seems so loud
we don’t notice life
knocking on our locked door,
desperate to find us.
May I open all the windows,
drill holes in the brick walls,
take the roof off.
Let the universe shape its love into a whirlwind
and I’ll bless the way it messes up my hair.
This empty hotel room
senses the lack of you,
scent lingering on sunken pillows
smells bittersweet, blended with jealousy
as my heart bottles this moment,
cap screwed on tight
in an effort to capture perfection
before it leaves on a plane.
I belong to the longing
and gather what stays,
your tiny imprints and easy mornings,
how you take your coffee,
the fit of your arm
as it curls around my waist.
Time’s precious reminder to stay present,
so I’ll take one of everything you sell
and make each bite last
until the market stalls open
with even more of this good for sale.