A white box
No windows
Let’s sit inside for a while
And search
For spirit…
Nothing!
The person in the
Box next to me
Concurs.
No matter how long I sit
With the bright fluorescent
Lights, God does not
Make an appearance.
What foolishness.
This emptiness I feel must
Be indigestion.
Looking down
The double barrels
Of a
Microscope
I beg for my mind
To be
Blown.
Out.
But
I had no idea I was waiting
In vain.
My mind is fine,
It’s the walls that need to be
Annihilated.
The language door must
Be shut.
Teach me how to float
And dance.
Show me where I can find the door
From the white room, into my
Body. Did I give you the key?
I’m going to climb inside as soon
As I can pry open my
Perineum.
But then
Some doors are
Excruciating
To open.
“I’m terrified of what lies inside.”
I have been so comfortable in the
Simple answer, to the question,
“Who am I?”
That I’d rather imagine it is not
A question
At all.
As I climb inside this sacred
Bipedal
Transporter, unfathomably ancient,
I hear the songs
Under my feet.
I hear the songs flowing in and
Out of my me.
The gushing river of my
Heart. The tectonic plates in
My bowels.
Sweet and tender
Kindness pouring out
Through my liver
The emerald friends around me whispering
In an unending chorus which
Crescendos until my heart lies
Shattered on the forest
Floor.
Who would have guessed that
All this
Was waiting
For me!
