sábado, 21 de noviembre de 2020

Butterfly out of the mists of time

Dividing once and again and again...

Two gametes in time 

and out of time

beyond the reach

of who we thought we were

Two gametes meeting

in a zygote playing 

here within us,

as us

having become one

only to divide again and again and again...

from beyond the mists of time

memory made flesh

inhabiting us

as the swing of our hips

the glint in our eyes

our own palette of love, laughter and tragedy colored

with a timeless symphony paint....

It's as though the dance

of life from womb to womb

keeps birthing out of itself

with barely a notion 

of home ownership...

"Mi casa es su casa... y la suya y la suya y la suya"

"My home is your home... and yours and yours and yours"

Just as your home is my home...

Como su casa es mi casa...

Y la brisa que se despega de mis brazos cuando bailo 

es al brisa de mil mariposas...


—Lorena Wolfman








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