Friday, May 27, 2016

Until purity regains its footing

Until purity regains its footing                                                                 

I keep my body immobile
like the leg of an old pier.

I want the stream to run clear
and if that’s not possible,

the opacities to be mere
insubstantial tricks of light,

or barring that, discolorations
of the stream itself, ever-flowing and untainted.

And when the dirt is ruffled from the bottom,
I want my body to remain stationary

until purity regains its footing.
That’s what this is – this sitting here

quietly folded – letting the stream of existence
pour unimpeded over whoever it is I am.

O child of God, to no longer know who you are
is a gift in kind from the great Unknowable.

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