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                                        Can you find the bird?






I rub my back against the wall
Into the deeper recesses
Of muscle
My shoulders and back aching
For attention
Rocks hard in my back rocking
Up and down
Back and forth
Across the edge of the wall
And initially it feels good
Real good
Like cutting layers
Of past out of present
Clearing new ground
Pieces of history
Fall at the base of the wall
Some Great Wall falling
And the liberation of hundreds
Of thousands whose faces
Never saw this type of light

But it took years for the whole
Wall to crumble
Hitting pieces that refuse
To give light
I decide to write
My muscle-story
My history
Read scratches and carvings
On rock
Like tablet
Or ancient Egyptian hieroglyphic wall
And it is clear
As I write
Pieces tie themselves together
Words on top of words
For no one to read again
For me to burn in the sink
And wipe
The remnants of my history clear
Flush, tarry and watch
Like a city without walls
A spirit is nothing without it’s ruler
But what of its ruler
I am in the bathroom of my history
Squatting
Reaching for the paper of lack
Isolation
And childhood abandonment
Without a trace of stateliness

But I keep going
Rubbing this muscle memory
Wincing and trying to breath deep
Trying to hear myself
Going as deep as time will allow
Going as deep as I can
Before my son wakes
From his nap
And I hate to consider him an interruption
But I’ve never been here before
Never felt this on my own before
Never cried at what I did not see
But knew was there before
Outside of knowing
God is real

I keep going with hope
Words render freedom
Render release from my flesh
Leads to somewhere else
To places I recognize
And can write
And places
I never knew I’d been
I scratch
Write layers of myself
All for one question
Not an answer
A question
Led here
To this Great piece of wall
And one question
Minus some layers

“Who am I?”

I can not answer that question
But I feel it
I feel it so deep
Past the layers
That I immediately
Live it
Spirit it
And dive into it
Where I am able to hear beyond
What is actually said
To which piece is to come
Down next
To where ease is
Abundance and connection recline
And love resides.

And today, this morning
While my son sits next to me
Under the covers
I have spread on the floor
And plays his Nintendo
I pull out paper
And rub my right shoulder
And back against
The edge of the wall
It is easier now
Not because there are less
Knots to untangle
But because I love myself
And family
Enough to dig in
Know
Or at least discover
Questions
Without presumed interruptions
And today I hear
Clearly I hear
“Who is God?”

I can’t answer that either
But I feel Him
And I love it.

Comments

Anonymous said…
i love this. so funny, i never noticed the leaves. i only saw the bird...and then when i read 'can you find the bird', then i noticed the leaves...see you tomorrow . bonnie
January 24, 2010 at 2:51 PM
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