sábado, 27 de marzo de 2010

Let me shed this pretense

Let me shed this pretense
My wings have grown in
And I have nowhere left to hide them

Wet, yes, they are wet
With the amniotic fluid of the soul

Let me shed this pretense

A straight jacket in time
In a time when there is no time

Souls cry out for a true expression

Feathers have sprouted
And they are coming out
From between the lines
Of stoic convention

Let me shed this pretense
Though I cry
Though we cry

For all that is lost

Though I cry
Tough we cry

For all that is found

These wings my wings
These new wings as yet untested
As I balance
With my eyes still closed
By edge of the great ocean

Or shall I say mystery?

On my solid rocky crag
Bathed in sunlight
Each feather caressed by a delicate ray
And the air dry my wet wings

Each feather each fiber
Finding its relation to self and elements
Finding its articulation in relation self and other

This is not just another normal day
Nor was any day ever just a normal day

Testing testing testing
The stretch the bend
Contraction and extension
Readying for flight

My soul cries out for truth
My soul cries out with truth

Testing testing
The articulations
Bones sinuew muscle breath
Joining the technicians of the sacred

by Lorena Lobita
copyright February 2010

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