awakening

i.

without time
i am not my self

i am first the rain penetrating the soil
and into leaky walls

in time we are all blind

hurtling through stark passages
there is the feeling of breaking,
and not without fear,
as if to split forth from the seed
into an unknowable beginning:
a tender head,
then two leaves unfurling
to stand shaken in the sun.

ii.

we emerged out of parched earth
to look upon each other in this fragile state.

love leapt unexpectedly into my body.

morning licked at my cracked sense of time
and I gathered myself
from dark edges of the long night.

we both came seeking wholeness.

empty. unguarded. pure.
we stepped into each other with such absence
of resistance I felt no threshold,
only knew by the echo:
my small voice as if in a great hall;
the sound i strained for through the night
suddenly clear.

iii.

i cannot contain a love this fluid and lonesome.
weightless, it fills in my empty spaces like light
and again grows, bursts me apart:
i have hardly been so formless
to become the breeze and the breathing
lowly ruffling the water’s surface
and whispering soft words to warm ears.

will the winter keep me as such?
cold air draws fog from the ocean.
these hills are at their finest
draped moistly

with mist: sitting fatly among sodden branches
and shivering birds.

still yourself.
calm limbs collect dewy songs like blades
of grass in the morning,
calm hearts
catch heavy things that condense out of the night.
we all take on form sometimes.
were we sleeping?

i found myself
perched so gently and deeply within you
you feared to stir
but to breathe:
I felt the expansion
as the hot wind rolled in,
and woke upon a cool exhale

into the fresh hollows
you left.

return and awaken in me.
arrive
outside of time,
whole.

 

~laura dev 2012~

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