I keep forgetting myself.
Where I can be found is. . . .
right here.
This body. This woman body.
Sitting under a blue sky. A bright yellow sun.
Swimming in nobody’s business expecting somebody to save me.
As if salvation would be the result of doing.
I am right here.
Here in the sense of soft edges,
expansive wings, and deep breaths.
Not by way of pushing against resistance.
Here with a quiet passion that can be met
with the company of God.
Here with the longing and knowing of medicine
in the form of receiving.
Discovery through fears of annihilation,
through patterns of retreat.
A return to the singular before
blooming feels possible.
I am right here.
This body. This Spirit body.
Laying under an umbrella of stars. Remembering the cosmic tides
of expansion and contraction.
Here to dance this way and that
back to the space of connection.
I am right here.
Like a child continually getting lost.
To be guided back within-
to the seed, to the source
only to discover she
is Found.
