I reach out
Gently
With wiggling fingers
And giggling breath
And find
You
Hard
And just
Out of reach.
And I am lost
For a moment
To the iterations
On this moment
That still me
And pull my hands
In close.
And then the
Fabric beneath
My fingertips
Is a son
Becoming man
And I breathe
And love
And slip my hand
Into the rocky palm
Of a mountain
For a walk
With my mother.

I find
My
Self
Settling
Into the place
And time
I call
Here
And
Now,
And let go
Of the job
Of doing
The
Calling,
Just
In Time
To pick it up
Again.

I shift
And lean
And pitch
Ahead to
Balance
These tips
To toes
And breathe,
In flight
For one,
Two,
Three,
Before
Looking
Back
And settling
Spread
From
Behind
To ahead,
Arriving
In all that
Could be.
And I breathe.

I settle,
Bones
To mat,
And draw
Air and pain
From the world
Around me,
In and down,
Then rolling
Gently
Up and out,
Until
This
Small
Thing
Becomes
The only thing,
The every thing,
And I am now.

She peers
At him
Sideways
And wonders
When he
Forgot,
“I am
Beautiful,”
She whispers,
“And yours.”

I push
These swords
From
And through
Tired
Confusion
To clarity,
Before
Binding
Blades
Behind
To lead
With heart.
And,
Open,
We see
Past
What we know,
And bow
To what
We co-create
Hearts
Cracked open,
And sharp edges
Bound.

I reach
And feel
My mind
Reach
For a you
And an us
We used
To be
Or want
To recall
To create
With tiny
Bits of
Being
And big
Bits of
Doing,
And I
Remind
Myself
To listen.