This Morning For Me!

February 2, 2006






Today,
Jane listens to my morning flow and calls it Life-Lines.  I am struggling to be here in some way of
keeping my core, the essential part of my being alive, even as I feel myself
internally probed by something injected from outside.  Last night, I felt I was invaded by aliens,
as I felt the chemo on its search through my body.  It is like a flashlight swimming through me
looking for what is dividing rapidly, and leaving the slow sleepers to rest.






My
throat is sore this morning, and my feet, but I am feeling pretty well besides
that, and yet, as Jane and I talk, I realize I am not looking for meaning in my
writing this morning.  My mind is
unclear, like this day I see out my window. 
I am recording what I see and feel, in some way of anchoring.  I am here. 
I am me, some me, and sometimes, the chemicals cause my legs to shake,
and I sit with that.  I watch that, and
perhaps, that is why today, I look out my window at the trees, and I watch
them, just watch.  I am not looking for
meaning today, or judgment, or even, discernment.  I just am today.  I am a duck. 
I am a tree, dripping with rain, that has now paused, and yet, is still
held in the folds of the leaves.  I am
the sun on the other side of these dense layers of fog and clouds.  I am me. 
I am you.  We are one!










I
offer my snippets, my morning as it drops, like rain, from an inner, outer
sky.  


For
me today, there is no meaning, only being, in a life. 




 




Diving in




like a duck




tail up




to nuzzle below




what swizzles unseen




until grabbed in a  beak,




shaken,




and taken,




like coffee,




with cream




 




 




 




sitting blank




mind silent




allowing a hand to come




and write




what bites nuance to rise




and fly buttons like kites




for the sky




to open




and star with light -




 




 




 




insight




 




can I welcome the hand




that comes like an animal in the night




to write on my mind




like porcupines,




each spine held at an angle




to catch the light,




and bring it to the page,




an offer, sometimes,




of sight  -




 




 




 




the tree outside




is silent today




each branch hanging out




like a long gloved hand




dripping with diamonds,




water still shakes




and the breath awakes




in the round pause




of the pond




as it dreams




of lakes




 




 




 




everything reaching today




in the pause of the fall




of rain -




leaves and needles like fingers




waiting with bows




to fiddle




the sounds of the clouds




as they open




like grain




to sun-filtered light -




 




 




 




where to stop with a poem -




with a look, with the eating




of a lime -




where to pause the breath




and let it rest




that moment




clicking




time




 




 




 




where are the roses




held in my care




the flowers in cheeks




the organs in there,




felt,




heart, liver, spleen,




unseen -




 




Perhaps I don’t want meaning, only understanding at the most basic
levels, forces molding cells, tissues, organs, me, you, an internet connecting
us all, as one. 




 




I Want to Know!




 




I want to see inside,




to probe like chemo,




to be that light,




to discern -




can I activate fingers




to stir inside, like cilia




and see




and feel




the deepness




I hide -




I want to know Everything -




I want inside, out




     where I can see,




     what is happening,




     what churns and flows and
ripples in me. 




I want to peel the earth




     like an orange




     and eat the seeds -




I want to understand the operation,  




     the motivation, the
surge, the tides that reap -




I know it is an old story,




formation and creation,




the watchmaker and the watch -




what comes first,




the chicken or the egg -




I am wanting to go where only letting go can take me,




letting go - disintegration -




and I’m not ready -




I am a probe, probed.




I am here,




not ready to let go,




and so I hold my insides in,




contained in a shell,




like an M & M.




I am all the colors of the rainbow,




until I melt,




and that day is not yet here,




and yet, I want to know what ticks inside,




what motivates this being that seems to be,  a me. 




"Let go and feel the air blow through your holes,"  I am told.




I am the whale.




I sing the sea.