When The Grip Loosens

When the grip loosens, the light exhales through the cracks.

Inside that light I find you in the darkness.

You are a quiet cacophony arising from the earth, emerging from under a crow’s wing,

slipping through the subtle doorways in the atmosphere.

You are the melody of the creek in the quickening of morning.

You are the dragonfly hovering

over the damp jade moss

embracing the shaded stone

fixed in the center of the river.

You are the moss, the stone, and the river.

You are the warmth barely lingering on the tip of the tongue of this soft wind.

You are the wind. You are the tongue.

 

 

And how the low sun cleans my eyes

and how the songs we sing pull the remaining poison from my throat

and how your song melts the wax in my ears

and how the sweat on my skin evanesces.

Emptiness.

 

You place all the ingredients into the cauldron of my open heart

and with the right amount of time and space,

accurate pressure and precise heat,

jewels form.

Your ancient hands

draw them out,

polish and refine their prophecy

and in those fossiled palms, you protect

these indestructible seeds awaiting the season when

you place them in the heavy dark soil of the earth.

and in time, they sprout, push through, and grow

loosening the grip, reaching towards the light that exhales through the cracks

Posted on October 12, 2015 .