Being Complete

There is not one word that can name the shallow tide pools
Or rocky crags, wind blustering by
And blue, deep flowing, growing blue
A whirlpool of color in the vastness of this sky.

There my self of many faces passes by
The red beneath blood deep within
And blue around me reaching out across the thresholds of my skin
There but for her shaping hands go I

Molding new ground for my weary feet
There but for their ancient eyes
And strong tall forms, long streaming hair, glinting shields
And for me finding all of me, I might never have been whole.

I duck inside the shelter of my own light house
As vast as sunrise, as wide as mountains
As old as time
Home at last I sweep the floor
I’ve left my golden shiny things outside.

The only thing that matters now is the unconditioned joy of living
The streams of giving poured out from their hands
I once asked why, fragmented my soul against stone to understand
But now  newly formed and unknowing
I am content to stand, belonging to myself  beside them
Hand and hand.

Where haunting melodies of Lír’s children linger in the silence of the night
Where the Fianna’s hunting horn lies buried,
Where I can still follow the footsteps that lead inside earthy knolls
Where landscapes reawaken and the absences of dreams leave holes

Along the path less taken
I discovered who I was
Fragile and bony, easily torn
Eternal and holy a spirit now born.

When the rains came and washed fear away into the seven seas
I opened my eyes from a long sleep of seven years
And with a gratitude more full than the universe has stars
I jumped off securities jagged ledge
And soared into the trees.

Now I do not try to name what refuses to be a certainty
Better it remain wild and unruly, like the history of landscape
Better to welcome those you dance with wordlessly
So you do not waltz into the four sided space of a definition
With no way to return as inexplicably as you have come.

Slide me into the glaring light of your microscopic gaze
Try to holler at the silence that murmurs along the edges of my life
I will sift like mist between your fingers and nothing will linger
But the emptiness you made of me

For I am, at heart, a mystery
And no one word could ever capture the unfathomable totality
Of who I am when all is said and done
Even then, I will be.


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