she says i remember air on my skin
the scent of being embodied
that i wore clothing
the taking for granted of each small bit
memory once you return to ether loses solidity
hard to embrace
it’s not being dead that is hard
it’s that there is no hard
hardness falls away, gleaming
to be in a particular hum of sound
the energy shift required to be human
contained vortex of anything is possible manifest
you are created out of nothing it seems
a receptor sounds the echo of the dead
& so inside the pure echo
like radio waves never picked up
is anyone listening
singing for the dead clears space around
it burns you free of fear over time
the seraphim see & burns right through you
detaches iris to see clear
you see both/ both seraphim eyes
to hear underneath where truth accumulates
to be remembered
we carry it inside us
we pull it up the seeds
why calculate or keep track of any of it
there are no horrible beings
just souls in terrible cages of suffering
forgotten of love, we are made to be filled
and imagine a lack, we feel a lack so deeply
we believe separation is real
i went to the dead
to talk and there in the trees
deeply rooted, translates
palm to bark and listen
to centuries of changing seasons
deep in the core of the trunk
a ring of memories about how the world
has moved, do you recall what it was like to be a seed
inside the shell, do you recall that smallness before vast
branching under soil/ reaching deep into mother’s skin
do you recall more than the trunk of yourself so beautiful
it shatters & the shattering & the beauty get
confused
they are wrapped, veil thin
no here or there but always here
i put my hand against the trunk of her
i put my hand against the bark of her
rough and hard and soft and fierce
i thought of the word ‘god’ and the smallness of us all
i put my hand against the skin of her
her coat bristled, i put my hand against her and was sorry
i put my hand against her and we spoke
called me down singing into my cells
how do you word forever & everything
can you follow she asked
outside the body & into an eternal
the trees become the dead and the dead become the trees
there is no excess of form
we spoke and the doors swung open
& you take what you can hold
i felt such shame when i was caught admiring
the tree, standing with her
the fir of her pressed into my face
sweetness & i did water them from my body
they into me memory and song
and me into them, the only word left is mother
to spare just one being from suffering brings
grace into the world
hold on to that she says
we heal as we heal as we heal
a type of magic of moving in & out of our lives together
always we are answering a call if listening
what kind of wandering dog will you be
we stop the flow of fear from coming into the world
that is what you can
do with love
you can stop the flow of fear spreading between us
we are all poor judges
forgetting bliss is available to all
once distinction falls, that no one thing is better
or worse than another then we see the universe clearly
a source of unlimited energy
we all wake up from the dream together.
that is when it ends.
