Saturday, December 31, 2011

Happy 2012!!!

Photo, Tom Miles

As a new beginning teases from just beyond the horizon, what better way is there to celebrate both its advent and arrival than to simply say: May your 2012 be filled with joy and fulfillment.

Happy New Year! :-)


Monday, December 12, 2011

the elements of fetal

Birth and Rebirth, Jen Otey

i understand, now,
something i have never understood before.
and i just want to close my eyes and breathe again.
i just want to close my eyes.
i just want to close my eyes.
i just need . . .
i just need . . .
out of my heart, i boot one loaded breath.
something inside me is changing.
something inside me is coming alive.
inside my knee, there is a mouth.
inside my stomach, there are two eyes.
inside my throat, there is an ear.
it hears, something inside me is shifting . . .
the geography of me.
something inside . . . be silent, it hears.
but there is no silence in the aliveness of growth.
there is no deafness in movement from here to there.
someone once told me,
it is not the darkness that we fear.
it is the light that terrifies.
but is this a truth, as truths go?
am i afraid of sensory overload?
fragments of me are seeking new homes,
new places to call shelter.
i hunch my back in fear.
cave, as in a primitive place of shelter?
cave, as in bow.
bow, as in something you wear
around your neck or in your hair?
bow, as in curl.
curl up, fetally.
an extension of fetal,
that condition in which we bob, anesthetized.
fetal, what we are before the darkness descends.
fetal, our true shelter, our true home.
fetal? fatal, if not delivered properly.
delivered with decorum,
like that man’s haloed head, delivered on a plate.
plate, as in something you eat from?
plate, as in to cover with a precious element,
to beautify the tarnish and make it glow.
but . . . enough now.
i curl into myself for comfort.
i curl . . .
but even curling is a challenge.
this red tide is turning.
this moon . . . blood-red moon.
pulling my tiny, wrinkled face . . . all eyes . . .
enormous, muddled eyes.
flesh stitching itself over bones.
not enough air.
pulling me into the light.
bringing me inside.
bringing me back to fetal,
where i just need is all i know.