Belly of a Star

my practice of compassion

I Call Out

Leave a comment

In you I find the creator of my universe, the instigator of choice, and benevolent maker of belief. In me, I find you, still, your cherry lips against my breath, breathing in all that is and was before. Inside, I stir, as honey to the nectar, reversed and brought back to self. Everything turned backwards, as if time were a memory and the recourse a destiny without tune. No sound. No breaking. No bearing. Nothing but a gentle whisper of naught. Oh, to be in your silhouette, the sunlight on my embrace, tickling me with your greatness, and to dance here, say, in the wonderment that is you.

I call out, my arms stretched as the beacon of hope, my misery tied round in box, a present to your voice. Listen. And enters the solitude of nowhere, the emblem of the serpent rising to feed off of what may be. Listen, to the stillness gathered at my belly ripened with the womb of you. Birth upon birth, one within one, opening to the opportunity of eternity.

I cannot stand here idling in merriment, pretending to break ground through an illusion of circumstance, when all around they twirl, these blind mistresses adorned in favors to please a master fool. Edging their way to the outskirts of humanity, only to be pulled back into the bleak of ghostly wears. Had I not been this forsaken dove, left destitute on the road of tomorrow, had I not been the same in my devastating solace, might I to be here, as them, reaching for stars that neither exist nor fall? Had I not been this angel lost so swiftly and gauntly would not the heavens no longer recognize the slightness of spirit, grasping at straws from whence I slipped through?

I am the raven, black, I know. Tender in your care and hunted by taunted dreams. I am the raven, true, tapping on the forgotten window pane of tomorrow. My beak blemished with the spots of your goodness. My bleeding poured out in withered footsteps clawed into the foundation of truth.

I am that I am, and yet I know not from where you flow out into me, through bitter cold, through winter’s bite. How you come in your ways eating away at my darkness and lighting the flame within. Again. Again. Instigating thought upon thought, and then bedding my ways, as soldier aching. Tucked in the sweetness of you. Bathed in your glory.

How I call out, true, a child in the light of your forgiving mercy. Loving not for what I be but for what I am. In wholeness, in truth, in everlasting faith, you anoint me. My treaty of peace brought up for sacrifice, my broken limbed-heart pierced in your name. Need I be this way to appease the sunrise calling? Need I be this lamb of love? Or shall I provide instead the womb of tyrant and feast upon what the valley swallows, the swarms, the enemy? Ought I disrobe my foolish offerings, and dance, stranger proud upon thy foothold. Please, I whisper to the dark of night. Please, I proclaim, and you are flooded with my essence.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s