Our Raw Heart

A late afternoon beam

Trickles through the canopy

Glowing redwood remains

Hush splintered in our wake

You stop and listen

To the leaves, falling

And silence, unfamiliar

Smiles between us

.

Further into the canyon

Of waiting fern-graced water trails

Jaws wiggling, diaphragms dancing

You ask me to go deeper

.

The space I land is remarkable

With these wounds, this heart

And the leaves, they fall

Your depths emerging, extending

And then silence, smiling, returns

.

I hold myself

And my spirals

Re-storying grand illusions

Into beauty and hope

But somehow, in this reflection

With the leaves falling all around you

I hear myself, in new ways

.

Many years on the mountain

Conversing with spider and brook

I’ve forgotten the medicine

Of humans

I put my heart

Beating, pulsing, a beacon

Out in between these bodies

And oddly, it’s held

Invisible webbing emerging from two

Deep waters, much solitude

And a bubbling wisdom of Nothingness

I step closer

Into the spiral core

And feel

.

Perhaps, this heart ponders

It is possible

Two humans

Can heal

As the leaves fall

As the world crumbles

As the core of ourselves and all reality

Is pierced, composted, rearranged

Perhaps, this heart, laughing

Watches, waiting

As I manage to step closer

Into its beating, pulsing

Knowing

Of what’s been true

All along

.

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