In the Arms Of Being
And the alien said, I don’t belong hereNot in this place, this place made of ghosts
And barriers, secret societies that gather behind gates
All free to enter and exit as they please, easy as smoke
Slipping through cracks; not me, the only one made of blood
Too clumsy, too thick, too heavy with knowledge
I don’t belong here
Not this place, full to the curious blue sky with whims
And dangerous purpose, paper acquaintances, hollow in their
Breast, like their guarantees, origami-beautiful, devoid of substance
I don’t like this place, strange silent mouths floating
All around me, talking, talking, but not to me
Eyes, graphic, base, myopic, fiery, cold even as they look
Right through me; I am tired of shivering against the heat
And the alien said, I want to go home
Where truth is like water, fluid, effortless, essential
And empathy is wrapped around our souls like silk
I want to feel Mother’s embrace, deep within, deep within
As it should always be, like it was before the beginning, just
A spark, an idea, a good thing, a glowing universal thought
Mysterious yet familiar, a massive cloud of creation, she loves
The genius of it all, how there is no reason, the beauty of
Ignorance regarding time, chance; she lets it be
I want to go home, where we are alone but not lonely
Not us, we who never will need the validation of another’s words
Or direct stare, neither of which matter in the arms of being
No gates of exclusivity, or templates constructed of smoke
Burdened by their own nothingness, so desperate to become real
posted by Ms. Lori @ 2:01 PM
2 Comments:
Beautiful. I want to be there, too.
Thanks, Anne.
Jas, sorry to depress you, dear. How about a joke, then? Um. There was a girl from Nantucket...
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